A Fallen $tar

A Fallen $tar: They said that hells not hot

December, 30, 2004

I was drowning in sweat as I sang the last lyrics to "The love song."

"Do you love your guns? yeah! god? yeah! and government?-" I paused a moment, just to give the crowd a chance. But bit only took a second to realize that there was no hope. I pushed out the last two words weakly, but I managed. "Fuck yeah!"

The lights went down. That was the end of yet another failure of a show. Another failure of a tour. I felt like I was just wasting my time. Like they only came to show their support. Not because they wanted to hear me, they just didn't want to let me down.

That's what I hated. The fakeness. All of these beautiful people had turned ugly, and their care had turned to dust. It mean't nothing anymore. Every time I stepped out on stage, it's almost as if I could hear the gossip sweep through the crowd like an ocean wave.

"God, he's gotten fat."

"Look at his face. He's so old!"

"Marilyn Manson has lost it, he can't wear the kind of stuff he used to."

"It's like his performance tripped and rolled down an endless hill."

"One of these days I'll be at a concert, and the old guy is gonna croak over. He needs to get off the stage and get out of the fame before that happens."

It only made me sicker at my stomach every time. Asthma attacks had been becoming more common when I performed-- and It made me look worse.

All the comments and posts on the internet made me start to believe it. As much as I tried to keep my head high and stay on my toes. It was slowly but surely deteriorating my ego.

It had gotten very hard, I thought it was over when Twiggy left almost two years ago. But over the years, my depression had faded. I finally learned how to store it in the back of my mind, where it didn't matter. But the subject was uncovered when Dita filed for divorce three weeks ago. Now the sadness from Twiggy's absence was only doubled with Dita's. I had no one. I was officially, alone.

I was born into this earth without anybody, and now I had come to the same point again. I felt as though I was not only letting myself down. But I was letting Marilyn Manson down with it.

I walked behind stage and immediately collapsed. Tim dropped his cigarette he was about to light and ran to help me. I felt usless. Like there was no point in me being here.

"John, inhaler!" Skold yelled at John, who was conversing with Ginger across the room.

Everyone was running around in the calmest manner possible. I didn't want them to help really, I kind of wished that I could just blame it on death. But I knew I couldn't. These guys weren't going to let that happen anytime soon. "Assholes," I muttered very softly under my breath. Nobody heard me, of course.

If I could only drag myself off to die somewhere. But it always seemed as though I collapsed in the wrong area. "Asshole." I muttered again, squinting my eyes and digging into my own palms this time.

John ran up and dropped beside me. Ginger, was off pacing, mumbling to himself like he always did. He didn't like to "get in people's way" as he always said when someone asked why the hell he didn't help.

"Here, calm down Manson. Just breath." he handed me the inhaler. I watched as that thing moved closer to me. I glared at it right now. It had been my hero throughout my life. But right now, I didn't really want it to save me. I had to take it's help though. I knew John, Pogo, Tim and Gin- Well...Maybe not Ginger. But the others would whip my ass if I didn't.

Reaching out, I grabbed it and put it to my mouth. My throbbing headache disappeared with the large amount of medicine that I pulled in. It coated the back of my throat as I deeply exhaled.

"You okay Buddy?" Skold and John leaned over me. Even Ginger became closer, leaning over me to see if I was dead or not.

"I'm fine, get away from me. You're all-" i coughed a bit, but stopped to think.

"What, can't think of anything smart ass to say?" John smiled.

"No! You shut your mouth, fuck face. Uh, yeah!" I sat up, childishly sticking my tongue out at John. Showing him that I had a come back to everything. I was the god of fuck. Of course I did.

He rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Oh my god. You're ridiculous!" He watched as I stumbled to get up.

"No you're ridiculous John, Fucking ass wipe!"

"Oh, so now he's a peace of toilet paper?" Ginger looked up questioningly.

"No Ginger, just shut the fuck up. I didn't tell you to talk!"

Everyone started laughing at me. Everywhere I looked someone was laughing. I started to hear my heart beat in my chest. My breathing picked up. They were making fun of me, and I didn't like it.

"Yeah, just laugh at me! You're the idiots." I walked away quickly. I heard John say "ha! Right." That made me knit my eyebrows. I couldn't believe they were doing this. I felt like I was being bullied again. Like in school.

I hated the pussy I was. I wasn't the god of fuck anymore. I had stopped believing that not too long ago. But I couldn't let them know. That would be stupid. I was like the- the- the god of fail now. I frowned at that thought.

"One day, that'll be on my grave stone." I felt my eyes get puffy. But I quickly regained control.