Já estou acordado faz quase três dias. Minhas olheiras estão acabando com o meu semblante, tornando ele desagradável. Não sei o que está acontecendo comigo. Não quero assustar mais ninguém com os meus problemas e com o fardo que a vida me deu. Estou com medo. Medo do que eu possa fazer amanha, ou depois, não sei. Tenho medo de não suportar mais esse monte de coisas insuportáveis que a vida nos oferece. Medo de tudo que possa fazer eu me sentir com mais medo.
A unica coisa que me mantém vivo, com vontade do amanhã… está se esvaindo. O meu eu lírico esta morrendo, e vai acabar me levando junto.
Three passions, simple but overwhelmingly strong, have governed my life: the longing for love, the search for knowledge, and unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind. These passions, like great winds, have blown me hither and thither, in a wayward course, over a deep ocean of anguish, reaching to the very verge of despair.
I have sought love, first, because it brings ecstasy – ecstasy so great that I would often have sacrificed all the rest of life for a few hours of this joy. I have sought it, next, because it relieves loneliness – that terrible loneliness in which one shivering consciousness looks over the rim of the world into the cold unfathomable lifeless abyss. I have sought it, finally, because in the union of love I have seen, in a mystic miniature, the prefiguring vision of the heaven that saints and poets have imagined. This is what I sought, and though it might seem too good for human life, this is what – at last – I have found.
With equal passion I have sought knowledge. I have wished to understand the hearts of men. I have wished to know why the stars shine. And I have tried to apprehend the Pythagorean power by which number holds sway above the flux. A little of this, but not much, I have achieved.
Love and knowledge, so far as they were possible, led upward toward the heavens. But always pity brought me back to earth. Echoes of cries of pain reverberate in my heart. Children in famine, victims tortured by oppressors, helpless old people a hated burden to their sons, and the whole world of loneliness, poverty, and pain make a mockery of what human life should be. I long to alleviate the evil, but I cannot, and I too suffer.
This has been my life. I have found it worth living, and would gladly live it again if the chance were offered me.
That wasn’t the only painful experience to come out of that night. Apparently, after I passed out, Tommy and Nikki made me the subject of a photo shoot: they took a picture of my face, with Tommy’s balls dangling above it, and the next morning made copies of it, had them laminated, and passed them out to everyone on the tour. I think the photo even became the official image for their All Access pass. I’d been tea-bagged for all the world to see.
the part of Slash’s book that made me die laughing