Soundtrack To My Life: Part Two

In my most recent posting, I talked about my love of music. I also related how The Ghetto Boy’s anthem, “Mind Playin’ Tricks On Me” was a song that sadly all too indicative of my life. Especially my life and mind frame while I was using and abusing cocaine.

In this post I wanted to discuss another song that feels as though the lyrics were literally ripped right from my guts. It is a song written by my idol, Courtney Love. It is not my favorite song that she has written. That would be “Jennifer’s Body”. It is not what I consider to be the most important song that she has ever written. That would be “Asking For It”, with it’s heart-wrenching chorus of, “Was she asking for it?/ Was she asking nice?/ Yeah she was asking for it/ And did she ask you twice?” No, not either of those, but “Doll Parts”.

I can feel the pain and the anger in her voice on such a visceral level. That song hits me on so many different levels. The way she howls, “He only loves those things/ Because he loves to see me break”, is enough to make me tear. This basically sums up the way I feel my rapist thinks/thought about me. I was an object, something to play with. To this day he still sends me messages and letters and e-mails telling me how mutch he loved and still loves me. I can’t really say with too much certainty if he truly believes this or not. He might think that he loves me. But he doesn’t. Not really. He loved toying with me. He loved to break me. He loves to break women in general, but I was different somehow. Maybe because I had always been so good to him, who knows.

“I fake it so real/ I am beyond fake”. This is of course one of the most famous, of -quoted lyrics that Ms. Love has ever written. I am all too familiar with this. Haters steadily want to knock Love for this line as sort of an admittance of guilt. Like, “See, she admitted it. She’s a faker.” I don’t see it that way. In that same vein, I see myself as beyond fake. I am one of the realist people out there, but I have always been a master at hiding my pain. I can cover up my cracked interior with well groomed and made up exterior. This here, this blog, has been an alley for my pain more so than anything else I have ever had. Most people are truly shocked if and when they ever find out my deep level of depression and anxiety. My own mother seemed completely and utterly clueless when she read about the state of my mental health on this very blog.

All addicts learn to fake a whole slew of personalities and skill sets so to say. We become master manipulators. Con artists extrordinares. We learn to fake anything that is going to consistently work to get us our drugs or money. We figure out want angle we can play at any given situation. I used to know this guy who lived in a section eight apartment in Baltimore. He had an abscence on his arm much like the one that Jared Leto has in “Requiem For A Dream”. He would un bandage it to shoot up. He looked like a straight bum about 90% of the time. But, he owned one suit. He would save it to go out shoplifting. He was about 56 years old. Put a suit on him and put him in a store on a Sunday morning, and he looks like a nice older gentlemen who just left church. That was his hustle. I would do up my makeup, bring in a Neiman Macus purse to boost. I would wear nice, clean, designer clothes. Until the store knew who I was, I could go for a long time without arousing any suspicion. We also learn to fake that we are clean. We even fake this to ourselves. Not that we are clean, of course, but that we don’t have a problem. That is why step one is to simply admit that you have a problem. We may fake that we are clean, but usually those who know us the best know better.

The whole general concept of the song, that we as women are nothing more than doll parts is something that I can relate to. “I am doll eyes, doll mouth, doll legs/ I am doll arm, big veins, dog bait… I am doll parts, bad skin, doll heart”. As girls we fed over photoshopped images of women who have been made to look like human Barbie dolls. Pretty, but silent. Part of the background. Girls are taught over and over that there looks and beauty are valued far above their intelligence. We are dolls. But the point of the song is that dolls can break too easily.

The song though at it’s heart is a song about hurt, pain and longing. “Yeah, they really want you/ They really want you/ They really do/ Yeah, they really want you/ Well I do too.” On the surface it sounds like this is about a man that is wanted by another, more popular, more wanted woman. It can be so much more than that. “You” can just be to fit in to society. While Love paints herself as the ultimate outcast, I think that she is getting she wants a place at the table just like everyone else. “And I do too”. My whole life as been a struggle to fit in. Not so much in the respect that I feel the need to conform to society’s rules and standards, because I most certainly do not. I have no problem with being different. But I would like to feel like I come from the same fucking planet.

The part of the song that hits my heart strings everytime that I hear it is when she repeats over and over, first softly singing and then screaming, “Someday you will ache like I ache”. I would sing this line over and over agin when ever I feel uber depressed. It is sad and it is angry all at the same time. It is a plea, and it is a hex. It is a “fuck you- you will feel my pain, if it is the last thing I do.” I have felt this all too often. This rage that burn in the pit of my stomach that developed as a teenager, but never burned out. It is a rage that makes me want to scream at the top of my lungs. It is a hatred for the world, for myself, for everyone who has ever wronged me, wronged the fucking world. It is a rage that I can not calm. I can calm it and quiet it for brief periods of time, but I can not make it go away.

The rage and the pain of all Courtney Love songs, but especially “Doll Parts” gets me like no other music. I may mostly listen to rap and hip-hop, but I always come back to Hole when I need to sing or scream my lungs out. Soundtrack to my life.

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