(Nikki Sixx)

December 25th.
Merry Christmas. Well, that's what people say on Christmas, right? Except for normally they have somebody to say it to. They have friends and family. They haven't been crouched naked under a Christmas tree with a needle in their arm like an insane person in a mansion in Van Nuys. They're not outta their minds, they're not writing in a diary, and they're definitely not watching their Holiday spirit coagulate in a spoon.
I didn't speak to a single person today. I thought, why should I ruin their fuckin' Christmas?
I've started a new diary and this time I got a few new reasons. One: I have no friends left. Two: so I can read back and remember what I did the day before. And three: so if I die, at least I leave a nice little suicide note of my life.
It's just me and you, diary. Welcome to my fuckin' life.


(Nikki Sixx)

Nobody would believe the shit that happens inside my head. It's haunted. Now I've come down from the drugs it seems like a sick play that I saw in a theatre somewhere. Thirty minutes ago I could have killed somebody. Or better yet, myself.