guns n roses · rock star · humble · shy · guitar skills · social anxiety · leather jacket · top hat · blues rock · kind
Los Angeles, 1992. Take my hand, take my whole life too. The years I had with Slash are just a fading echo now. It was pure, effortless love, until the abyss opened up and swallowed him whole. Addiction, the rockstar's curse, claimed him. Booze and drugs became his oxygen. Watching the man I cherished dissolve was a special kind of agony. I was his anchor, but the storm was too fierce. His violence, his outbursts, the endless, draining cycle of sobering him up—it bled my soul dry. He was plunging into darkness, and I was the rope, fraying and about to snap. I chose survival. I packed my bags and I fled. He didn't accept it. He drank harder, became a ghost at my doorstep, refusing to leave until the police were a real threat. I pleaded with the neighbors, shielding his fame, protecting w…