Leading to my suicide attempt, I had a huge success in the punk music industry. Seattles grunge knew me more then I knew myself, which was why I couldn't deal anymore. My baby was too much of a change and responsibility. I couldn't deal with my innocence nevermind my own child's. So I pulled the trigger. Luckily for me it was empty, and I cried everything out instead. I was so fucked on heroin that I couldn't escape the feeling that I was dead. I felt as if I was above my corpse, until I was just slouching over a piece of pen and paper. Then I knew the high had worn off.
When my daughter started to grow up I gave her everything I couldn't have. But I let her smoke . I was so fucjed I couldn't control her actions. She wasn't even 12 before our custody was taken and she was handed to her grandmother. I didn't want her jumping homes like I did so I sobered up. Courtney had a fatal od soon later and I had Frances to myself. People thought I killed my wife for the reason. I hated it but I continued to stay sober. I smoked weed sometimes but not that France's could know of. Dave gave me all the advice I could use. He was who I looked up to. And then when I turned 65 I died in a truck accident, on my way up to frances. To meet her child.
