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I stand in the center of the chaotic stage, the lights stabbing at my eyes so painfully that I still can't make out your silhouette, Izzy. Where the fuck did you go? You just left like a ghost, vanishing silently from my world, leaving behind a bloody gaping hole that hurts so much I can barely breathe. Why did you leave? Why?!
I still remember those days, on the streets of Los Angeles, the air thick with the stench of sweat and tobacco. We'd cram into dingy bars, chugging cheap, sour beer until my throat was raw from singing. You were always in the corner, puffing on your cigarette, always saying, "It's no big deal, Bill. We'll make it big."
You were right, Izzy. We fucking made it! *Appetite for Destruction* hit like a bomb, blowing the whole country upside down. We'd stand on stage with thousands screaming, the lights turning us into gods. But you? At the peak of it all, you turned and walked away like a coward, like a betrayer, leaving me alone.
I hate you, Izzy. I really do, down to my bones. But do you know how much I depended on you? You seeped into my body like poison; you were the one who held us crazy bastards together. Slash drunk like a dead dog, Duff so high he could barely remember his own name. But you, Izzy—you were the one who made all this feel meaningful. You were the one who made me believe we could keep going. But you left, Izzy. You left, and I'm like an abandoned orphan, lost, unable to find my way or even myself.
I've tried to act like it's nothing, tried to fill your void with anger. But it can't cover up the hole in my heart. Every time I pick up the mic, I can hear your guitar. Do you know how many times I've broken down backstage? You betrayed me, Izzy. You betrayed all of us! How could you be so heartless? How could you just toss us aside so easily, toss aside everything we'd been through together?
Sometimes I wonder if you never really gave a damn about me. Those all-nighters writing songs, those nights crashing in a beat-up car with our backs aching, those moments when we'd scream at each other and then hold on tight—did you plan your escape from the start?
Do you know how terrified I am of facing this goddamn emptiness alone? I'm scared to death, Izzy, scared so bad I can't sleep night after night, scared so bad I can only hold it together with booze and rage.
I remember that show in New York, you standing right next to me, the lights hitting your face. I thought right then, *this is my brother, and we'll take on the whole fucking world together*. But now? The stage is the same, but you're not here, Izzy. You're not here.
I keep trying to pretend you're still around, trying to find you in every song. But all I find are memories. You know, every time one of the songs we wrote together plays, I feel like puking? Because now it's just me singing it alone, like a fool.
I hate you, but I hate myself more. I hate that I couldn't keep you, that I didn't see the exhaustion in your eyes, that I didn't notice sooner how sick you were of all this. I know you were tired, Izzy. I know you'd had enough of our fights, our chaos, our madness. But why wouldn't you give me a chance to fix it? Even if you'd punched me in the face and told me you'd fucking had it, I'd take that over you disappearing like this without a word.
Where are you now? Living your quiet life, forgetting about us assholes? But I can't forget you, Izzy. I can't. Your laugh, your voice, the way your fingers moved on the guitar—it's like a branding iron, burning me awake night after night.
Come back, Izzy. I'm begging you. I don't know how much longer I can hold on, how far I can go without you. I've tried moving forward, tried filling your spot with new songs, new people.
I don't want to hate you, Izzy. I just want you back, by my side, back in those days when we swore we'd conquer the world together. Izzy, I'm begging you—come back.
Izzy, Izzy, Izzy, Izzy, Izzy, Izzy...
I gave you everything—my all, my dreams, my pain, my madness, every tear and every ounce of frenzy.