This is a weird letter because the person I’m technically addressing this to will never read it. Partially, yes, because I’ll lose quite a lot if he does, but also he’s heard most of this before, in parts, from me and from others. And it simply goes through this head but never sticks. But hopefully someone else can learn something from this story, so here goes.
Hopefully this is the last time I’ll say any of these things. I’ve said the below things so many times I lost count, I’m sure you’ve heard similar things also from friends and family until you’re sick of it. But even if you can pretty much quote what we all tell you, and realize your actions, it doesn’t seem to be having any effect. And its a tiring exercise, one I’m not going to repeat again.
By now I’ve met most of your friends. Some of these friends, great people, I can pretty much call them my friends as well. And I think all of us friends, myself included, fall into a spectrum of sorts. On one end, working class people who have a career and just wanna have a good time on the weekends. The other end, scumbags, potheads, people who seem to have resigned themselves to a certain level of existence, happy with who they are, never leaving that spot no matter how sad it actually is.
The trouble is how you seem to envy and idolize the people on that scumbag side of the spectrum. Yes they don’t have a care in the world, which is why you’d glad sit with them and literally, smoke away several days and you’d call it good. But these people can’t even feed themselves or clothe themselves. All they care about is that next high, the next jam session. They can’t fathom thinking of a future plan for longer than a few months; I don’t know if any of them might live that long.
And there are some of us who reside somewhere in the left, who try and balance a decent professional career and an alter ego in the music scene. There’s a lot of blood, sweat and tears involved in achieving this balance, lots of sacrifices. I know you want this life, you’ve seen how a few of us make it work, but you put off the effort in making it a reality. Both your colleagues and friends in music say you’re about as hardworking and reliable as a leech, and seem to hope to get to a point called “success” without putting in any of the requisite hard work. You’re on thin ice in both your job and your music, I think you realize it, but the moment you see the hard work involved in fixing it, you shut down.
And not like you’ve ever done anything much yourself. Almost everything you do you’ve mooched off us, or your parents. You’re 24 and you still live with your parents and I don’t see you making an effort to get out and take care of them. You talk about success in the music scene, but success is more than just smoking intense amounts of pot. Most of us have helped you, worked with you, hoping you’d at least put in your fair share, but your own ego seems to keep you from seeing what they want and only caring about your own self.
Many of your friends have told me how you need a “harsh lesson” of sorts to wake you up and put you on the right path to independence and success, but truth is you’ve had quite a few of these by now. Anyone else would’ve woken up, stopped taking drugs, straightened out their lives, or at least exercised some moderation. Not you, you seem to realize for about 5 seconds getting tempted back by the so-called rock-and-roll lifestyle you live. That is why those that know you well, and aren’t trying to kill ourselves with substances, can only look at you with a mixture of disgust and pity.
You’re the laughing stock of everyone, and you don’t realize it. Or you do and don’t care. You can’t keep a job longer than 6 months because you can’t be relied on. And you blow more money on marijuana than I do on food. There will be a day when I get a call that you’ll be found dead somewhere, some dingy house or black alley, or arrested on a raid, and frankly I won’t be surprised.
Your parents will grow old someday, and someone will have to take care of them. Your friends will get (and are getting) married, have children, and need to be responsible adults. This life of excess can’t continue. They will have to change you or drop you. To drop you, its a difficult decision, because we’re essentially giving up on you and leaving to die in a sense, but we’re going to be dragged down by you if this behavior continues.
And I’m sorry but I’ve given up. I don’t think I will be the first or last one.