An Open Letter to Colson Baker. Not Machine Gun Kelly:
Yo. My name's not Buck and I ain't here to fuck. I wanna talk to you human to human. Broken soul to broken soul. Addict to addict.
It is incredibly weird to watch someone slowly killing themselves and be mad while you're doing the same. I once asked My Love to only drink a pint a night... Not even for sobriety, just for self control. He chose suicide instead. Now, 2yrs later I can't sleep without my own fifth. Bud doesn't drown the pain the way whiskey does. Dumb and hypocritical, hunh? Just like your shit is dumb and hypocritical right now too.
You wanna be Almost Famous.... Don't be a full Russell... Get back to your roots and find a house with the same lamp as your aunt's. You know what I'm talking about. Just like I'm sure you also know, that you're on some fuck shit right now. Be a fucking William. LOVE music the way you're supposed too. Be kind to women, even if they are BandAids. Respect your fucking self. Respect your daughter. BE TRUE. You don't wanna live this Hollywood Whore life? Don't.
I know you're lost. I get it. I have my own dead people and demons also. I drink that fifth a day to forget the emptiness in his eyes while I beg the universe to give me the courage to commit suicide too. I haven't though and neither have you. We're stronger than that somehow... I don't know why. Maybe bc we're both cockroaches. Either way, we're stronger than that, right? They say fake it till you make it. I'm cockroach, not even a nuclear blast can take me out. But even cockroaches die from drug overdoses.
Before 31yrs old I buried my mother and sister due to domestic violence. Then my baby sister to a heroin overdose. My point being, my family is dead. Your friends are currently dying.... I know how hopelessness feels but you have ONE duty. Survive for your kid. I stand by whatever my crazy drunk ass has said before. Go home. Go home. Go home. Be with your baby and your realness. Find your William. Don't be a Russell. And deff don't be a Kurt. It's not honorable, it's sad. And will rip those who love you apart. Go home. Get the fuck out of LA and off of Insta. You look like an idiot and are so much better then wtf you've been doing. This, coming from a hypocritical drunk who has to figure out what the fuck she did last night, every fucking morning. I don't have kids though.
You're more than welcome to meet up with some real people, eat some pizza and throw some dice. Just whatever you do.... Don't fucking die, Dude. I'm telling you as someone who've watched many blaze out and ultimately have to talk myself out of it everyday.... I don't think it's as peaceful as we dream it to be.
Try taking personal responsibility instead of taking to social media. Choose. Hero or Villain, Motherfucker. Role model or Asshole. With great power, comes great responsibility. Don't be the fucking Peter who holds the elevator door open for your own death. Let it close and enjoy taking your time on the stairs with your daughter.
At the end of the day, your death will hurt us but we'll be okay. Your daughter won't. You don't owe us shit but you do owe her everything. Especially more than a fucking song. I've got dozens of songs from Justin. They don't mean shit and feel like lies when all you want is the person who wrote them for you. Consider that. Dad.
Sincerely,
The Hypocritical Drunk Cunt
