The first time Charles did a drug, the thoughts of suicide, hopelessness, and worthlessness of his depression were replaced by pure elation. He was instantly transformed into a magnificent, handsome, smart, and amazing person. He was all of those things without the drugs but his mental illness didn’t let him see that.
I am sure he thought, “Why is this not the answer? I feel so good.”
I see most of this in his music lyrics that he left. I personally saw this side of him only twice. One day he burst onto the deck one early evening in the summer after my husband and I had finished dinner and were enjoying a late summer evening outside. Charles was with two of his friends.
He was preternaturally happy to the point it scared me. Grandiose even.
I know from reading his lyrics, he thought he had found a solution to his hurt and his pain. He thought he had found happiness.
He wouldn’t get addicted. He’d be really careful and use it sparingly. He’d be different. The desire to be that spectacular person again in contrast to the guy who wanted to kill himself was far too intoxicating to stop.
It was a case of a child who was suffering, and a culture where numbing pain is normalized, and the drugs to do it are easy to get.
His music shows his decline into addiction and the exacerbation of self-hatred compounded by this new disease. In those lyrics, I see an uncanny awareness of a solution that turned out to be a killer in disguise.
