I'm a rock n' roll suicide

How Rock n' Roll Suicide, my favorite song, relates to my life.

I'm a rock n' roll suicide...

I’m a Rock n’ Roll suicide. Even though I’ve never played a guitar, got up on stage to sing a song that wasn’t for choir, or wore a crazy leather ensemble, I embody the rock n’ roll suicide that Bowie was depicting in his song, “Rock n’ Roll Suicide”.

The song is actually based off of Ziggy and his death. Through Bowie’s creation of Ziggy, a crazy rock star was born- one that lived fast and died young. The character of Ziggy was made to represent the rock stars that went hard and fell even harder.

Again, while I’ve never been a rocker, I feel that I have lived hard within the short 20 years of my life, only to take the extremely hard fall after. A lot of times, I feel like I will remain in this downfall, which causes me to grow very depressed. It’s almost as though I’ve already committed my suicide, yet am waiting in purgatory.

My form of rock n’ roll came through school, dance, running, and an eating disorder. I was the golden child in high school who did it ALL. I got straight A’s, was winning dance competitions at a national level, and was the Varsity leader on both the Cross Country and Track teams. And every night I cherished the whole three hours of sleep I got. 

I really WAS living the life style of a rock star… the highest highs…  winning scholarships, standing up there on the podium, crossing the finish line… and doing it fueled by caffeine and adrenaline that would disappear shortly thereafter.  When the adrenaline had gone, I’d have nervous breakdowns; entering the lowest of lows. My caloric intake would reveal itself as insufficient, my excessive studying and training would prove to be too much, and my eating disorder would take over. I just became a recycled hospital patient, at this point.

But I was “too old to lose it and too young to choose it”- I was digging my own grave. I’d been accustomed to this lifestyle for so long, there seemed to be no escape. No escape other than a complete end. I mean sure, I had successes, but they were all manic. And like I said, they would all lead to a crash. A crash that would bring my eating disorder out full force. This was when calories, weight, and inches ruled everything. My additional crazy exercise  governed my entire schedule… My bones protruded, my vision would fade, and my body would grow numb. This was the world that  I craved. It was like a drug. It was an addiction. I felt so light and free with my eating disorder. Like I ruled the world, almost. Yes, I was skeletal and superiror…. in my mind, although in reality, I was far from superiror… I was trapped in a hospital bed, hooked up to a slew of machines that were keeping my “superior self” alive…And really, in reality, this was the life that I was “too old to lose, and too young to choose”. I needed an escape.

I did find an escape. I set foot on the path of “Rock n’ Roll suicide”, when I realized I was a washed up has been. My “rock n’ roll” was done. I had taken it to the limit, and then the limit took me. Rock n’ Roll was replaced with rehab that has been an uphill battle, and a depression so heavy, it’s seems as though it’ll never lift. When I think of what I used to be sometimes, I grow incredibly sad and hopeless. Yes, I took it too far, but I did genuinely love my memories from dance and running… Just like a rock n’roller would fondly remember the music. It was just the things that happened behind the scenes that brought me down. This is why it hurts to even remember what was front and center.

That’s why when Bowie says, “you walk past the cafes, but you don’t eat when you live too long”, I like to think he is talking about coming across old memories, but being so downtrodden and weathered,  that you don’t even bother to attempt to think of the good times. Simply because you’ve “lived”, you’ve endured for too long and are giving up. It’s the suicide. I walk past those “cafes” every day of my life: when I stare at the trophies in my room, the old running pictures, or drive past my old college. And honestly, I don’t want to eat any of that anymore, because the hell has just been ingrained in me for too long.  I guess I have reached the point of apathy. At least, that’s how I would feel most of the time. 

Because most of the time, life seemed meaningless anymore. I just wanted to die myself. I would “stumble across the roads”, just wandering aimlessly. No direction. No care. Drunk, high, hooking up with people… I knew that I was going to kill myself. So what did it matter? My suicide was going to be my escape from the disappointment of my very own life.

So I went ahead and tried to finalize the suicide, since I already killed the Rock n’ Roll. I’ve stared down a barrel before. I’ve tied the knot of that noose. I’ve even taken the pills… but then I’d hear Bowie screaming, “Oh no love, you’re not alone!

And I would stop. Because I’m not alone. I’m not washed up. My rock n’ roll days, yes, those are gone. But there are many more to be had. I am not alone. So many people burn out; go through some really rough times, and yeah, they kill off THAT LIFE. But they don’t kill off life altogether. They find new ways. New things to do. A new person inside themselves, a person that is NOT ALONE. It is difficult to fathom changing my entire life, putting the “glory days” that nearly killed me to rest. But I have to keep going. Because I’m not alone. There are other things out there for me.

And somehow, that keeps me going. To know that I’m not alone. That” I’m watching myself, but I’m too unfair”. To have someone telling me that “You’ve got your head all tangled up, but if I could only make you care.” Well, I’m starting to care now. Even though I still struggle with the death of my past, I keep going. Because I think of this song. And when it comes on, I know that we can all keep going… “No matter who or where you’ve been, no matter when or where you’ve seen, or how the knives seem to lacerate your brain, I’ll have my share, I’ll help you with the pain… You’re not alone, give me your hands, cause you’re not alone, just turn on with me, because you’re wonderful…”We’re all wonderful. And capable of moving on to an entirely new life. So to all the Rock n’ Roll suicides out there, “Give me your hands”.