Categories > Celebrities > Marilyn Manson

Happy Birthday

by Nuada 1 review

It's Manson's birthday. Why does he feel so depressed?

Category: Marilyn Manson - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst - Published: 2011-03-23 - Updated: 2011-03-23 - 947 words - Complete

Author's Note: I messed with the timeline a little. In this story it's his 39th birthday but he and Dita have just gotten divorced. He's not dating Evan Rachel Wood at this point.


It's January 5th, god I wish it wasn't. I know that today is going to suck; I've known that since the minute I got up. As of right now it's 5 AM and I'm already showered, dressed and trying to prepare for whatever the day can throw at me. The reality is quite simple; there will be phone calls, cards in the mail and fans letters. My 'friends' will probably come by at one point or another. They'll wish me a happy birthday whether they mean it or not, then they will leave and once again I'll be alone.

I pour a glass of Absinthe, get my binder and wait for the phone calls to start. I'm on my second glass of Absinthe and third page of scribbles when the phone rings. I knew that the phone would ring but it still caught me off guard.

"Hello." At first there is only silence on the other end. I grow impatient and was about to hang up when the caller spoke.

"Hey Brian."

I smile slightly. It's awkward that the first call should be from my Dad. My smile broadens, becomes real as I realize that after all this time he's the only one that still calls me Brian. He's comfortable enough to refer to me as The God of Fuck but not Marilyn Manson; if that's not ironic then I don't know what is. "Hey Dad, how's it going?"

He chuckles, almost like he believes that I have no idea why he's called. "Oh you know. By the way happy birthday."

For reasons that I can't explain and don't really care to examine tears start forming in my eyes. I learned a long time ago how to cry without making a sound, not that it would matter if I did. Either way I wipe the tears away. "Thanks Dad." We talk about nothing for a few minutes and then he hangs up. We never end the conversation by saying good-bye. I don't know when that started or why but it's like a secret agreement that we've made. When we've run out of things to say we simply hang up.

It's almost 6 when my Mom calls. She knows that I'm an early riser although I've never bothered to explain why. She seems happy just to know that in the early morning hours there's someone awake if she wants to talk. Our conversation is a lot more drab than that of my Dad. She wishes me a happy birthday, asks how my years was, if I feel any older and how I plan to spend my day. I lie to her. I tell her that my year was great, that no I don't feel any older and that I plan to spend the day celebrating. I don't know why I feel the need to lie to her and I know that somewhere she has to know that I'm full of shit. But like the relationship that I have with my Dad, there are a lot of things that go unsaid.

After I'm done talking with her I get up from the table. I walk through the house one room at a time. Ever since Marilyn Manson and the Spooky Kids my house has never been this empty. There was usually someone from the night before lurking around, or whoever I happened to be dating at the time.

As I finish and end up back in the kitchen I realize that this is the first time since 1989 that I've been alone. I had attached myself to the people that were around me. I had been so comfortable with being Marilyn Manson Married Man that I now find it too hard to be single. Dita and I had been together for 7 years before we were married. She knew how I had been before she married me and yet it was such a surprise when after we were married I didn't change.

I fucked up. I know that I did. She left me because I had gotten too heavily into drinking and cocaine. I remember one night when she told me that I wasn't the man that she fell in love with. I tried to convince her that it was just a rough spell and it would get better, but she saw right through that.

She left me. The worst part about it was that she left me when I wasn't even around. I had gotten the divorce papers in the mail. When I returned home the house was empty. It was depressing.

I wipe away the tears that are near my mouth. I remember when I had hit rock bottom. Dita had been gone for a month, I couldn't write worth shit. I felt like shit. That's when I had this bright idea. I took my bottle of anti-depressants and a bottle of Whiskey. Every time I took a swig of Whiskey I'd pop 2 pills.

I can't say that I'm sad that Tim found me. I was pissed off at the time but now, I don't know.

Now I'm back where I started. I decide right then that nobody else is going to bother me today. I'm going to spend my birthday sleeping. I unplug all of my phones, shut off my cell phone, lock the doors and windows and turn off all the lights.

I crawl into my bed. No one's going to bother me. I'm a 39-year-old-used-to-be-shock-rocker and I wish that I were dead.

The End
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