I hate the world.
I hate the people I'm meant to love.
Mummy's a whore, and Daddy fucked up.
My brother was mental (or so they said).
I felt like the only sane one, but I was really the most disastrous.
I was laying waste to the world. (I thought, as I shooted up the heroin into my veins.)
19 and addicted. To sex, drugs, drinking, power.
I craved love but I could never have it. So I settle for lust.
The drugs and booze reminded me of the good times.
Back when we weren't so fucked up,
when Panda was innocent, when Freddie wasn't missing.
The power, oh God, that was the best part.
The manipulation, the feeling of knowing that I could do anything and all of you would still worship me, even if you didn't show it.
I loved it.
The only thing I could bring myself to love.
I was hurting, but I healed by hurting you.
You could fuck me as many times as you want,
you knew I would still be gone after.
But thank you, James.
At least you made me feel something.
Goodbye (as I shut my eyelids for the last time.)