by Nikki Sixx
I know one thing–a lot of people were hurt besides myself due to the fact that my family is full of lies and secrets.
I have forgiven my mother, because she did have a part in this. Maybe not the same info I was given, maybe some of her story is convoluted too. It doesn’t matter anymore. Family comes first, and I love her–she’s my mom. She really did do the best she could with the cards that she was dealt in her life too. She’s a nice lady, a very creative lady, and loves me very much. I don’t want her to live out the rest of her life feeling guilty. I think, unfortunately for her, I tortured her long enuff. I love you, Mom.
DEANA RICHARDS: Nikki has said a few times that he wants us to have a better relationship, and I want it more than anything in the world. There’s not a day gone by when I haven’t hurt and prayed for Nikki. We were separated for all those years and it wasn’t my choice, but I never got the opportunity to explain that to him. He is my son. I love him.
My dad? Well, I couldn’t make peace to his face, so Donna found out where he was buried and took me there in 1999. At first I was gonna piss on his grave, but I decided it was time to let it all go. I had been carrying a vendetta since I was a young kid that was killing me, and to carry it any further (especially since he was dead) was just two steps back. It was finally time to step forward and let go of the anger and pain. Dad, all I have to say is, you missed out on one hell of a son.
My grandfather and grandmother? Well, Nona loved me, I know that for sure, and that feels good. I think right about now she’s breathing a sigh of relief and I’m sure when we hook up again I’m gonna get a good talking-to…ha ha…
Tom has been there for me thru thick and thin. He raised me and did the best he could, and you know what? It wasn’t even his job. He took on my father’s role and for that he deserves the Medal of Honor, ’cause it was a fucking war zone.
ALMOST LAST. BUT DEFINITELY NOT LEAST
What is my part in all this?
Well, my part is somewhat simple (if anything about me can be said to be simple).
1. I injected everything I could get my fucking hands on, and then some (and then some more). We really don’t need to go over the list again…besides, we’re running out of paper and quickly outta time here.
2. I was a drug addict, alcoholic, depressed control freak and egomaniac.
3. To be honest with myself, I was really just running, running away from the shit ’cause I couldn’t take the smell. Whether I was chicken shit or it was chicken salad it fucking reeked and I just didn’t deal with it…so I let it deal with me.
We’re at the end and at the same time the beginning of this misadventure. Why I had to go down a dead-end street at 200 mph screaming for vengeance and embracing death is something I’m coming to terms with every day in my life after death. But like they say, life’s a journey, not a destination.
Part of me (Nikki? or Sikki?) thinks this was all part of a master plan to expose the raw nerve endings of dysfunction so I could heal. But alcoholics always think everything’s about them, so chances are this is just another character defect I have to work on. I always said, “Anything worth doing is worth overdoing”…well, actually I still say it, and live it too. But now I’m gonna be an overachiever with a different, healthier agenda.
DEFINITELY LAST BUT STILL NOT LERST
Someone asked me why I was writing this book and I said, “Maybe one person will read it and it will help them.” They said, “That’s not very rock ’n’ roll, is it?” I said, “Fuck off” and smirked, because I know it’s the most rock ’n’ roll thing about me–doing what I wanna do in life.
I guess Lemmy was right–I am better than that.
