My obsession with Nirvana front man Kurt Donald Cobain has become unbearable for me. The man shot himself 16 years ago, and here I am screaming and crying, cussing out the universe for letting him kill himself. Kurt was the last real Rock Star. Don't get me wrong I looooooove Elliott Smith who also took his own life by stabbing himself in heart in 2003 at age 33, but Elliott was not nearly as popular as Nirvana's Kurt Cobain. Both were Heroin addicts. Both were tortured souls, and the music they left behind them is like a gift from the universe... that I cuss out as we speak.
I look at their suicides, mainly Kurt's, and I say to myself I won't be leaving behind anything the masses will enjoy, nothing the masses will take into their hearts and love. Why do I want to please the masses so much? Who gives a fuck about them? I hate most people. In jail, and in the mental institution I wouldn't speak to anybody because I had a hatred for them I cannot describe. The only thing that keeps me from locking myself up in my own basement naked with an few grams of Heroin is, Methadone. Somehow the Methadone puts up a little cocoon for me.
For me, life feels like everyone is trying to pick me with a sharp pin, and the cocoon Methadone puts me in keeps those pin sticks from penetrating me. Where I'm going with this I don't know? I'm just so raw emotionally right now.
I listen to music and am torn into pieces, my Methadone dose is definitely not at a high enough dose to keep the cocoon thick enough to keep everyone from sticking me with pins. To keep the words from songs from sticking me like a pin cushion.
The one thing I do know, is I have to let go of Kurt Cobain. He is dead! I can still enjoy his music, and I look at pictures of the beautiful boy, but I will never meet him. Love will never blossom between he and I. I'm left behind to find love from a living breathing human being. With this knowledge I know I should not want to use Heroin. It ruins lives, if it doesn't ruin your life this year it will next year. Opiates fell into my life out of nowhere when I was 17, and ten years later they are always falling into my lap.
For instance. One day I was sitting in the mall, I had just taken my Methadone and a handful of Xanax, and a guy comes up to me, and buys me lunch while I nod out on him, when he leaves he leaves behind a tiny superman Ziploc bag with a point of H in it. I never mentioned to him that I was addicted to opiates, I never asked him for anything. What I would have him rather thrown at me is a bag of Xanax. I still have that tiny point of H. This happened about five months ago when I first moved back to Wisconsin from Hawaii. Since then my tolerance has been too high for me to shoot up the point, I would just waste it, and I can't do that. So I keep it in a very private place, a place no one but my demented mind would ever think to look.
How this blog ties together you might ask? Well it doesn't. I just want to be able to love my fellow human beings and opiates help me do that. I want to get brain surgery and get rid of my obsession with Kurt Cobain. Knowing myself as I do, after I herd his music again I would somehow find a way to worship him again even after having him erased from my brain.
I know I'm the song you hate, but can't let go. I hope somebody finds this entertaining. Its so hard to keep moving on, sometimes I wish I could just close my eyes and wish life away.
I love and hate all of you.
P.S. I probably hate people, because I hate myself and want to die. I know the answer, how do I fix the hatred, and wanting to be accepted. How do stop all the contradictions in my life?