It’s been awhile since we’ve had a fresh drama from the Melocaust.
About a year before Mel Gibson went glum C.U. Next Tuesday crazy and hit, threatened and yelled at Oksana Grigorieva, he wrote her a letter about his urge to get drunk and TP the Jewish neighbors.
I couldn’t sleep and my guts were churning – I Love You- and to tell the truth I haven’t really got a grip at the moment. I don’t know why I’m so whacky and depressed but I need to get well and re-enter life. Please don’t be upset I’ve gone — I’m just not myself and feel bad when I am so f**ked up and sick around you. I don’t want to inflict this unhealthy version of myself on you but be strong and together for you. I can’t be that! Maybe it’s some kind of male menopause– or Brian’s s**t or God knows what, but this isn’t who I was meant to be – I know it! I’m scared I can’t get back. I’m so ragged I could drink or commit a crime. The anger seems to be out of my control. I need to do something about it, something lasting. Not just a band aid.
Brian isn’t the answer neither is medication or the million other band aids the modern world provides cause what I’ve got is older. I should probably attend a lot of meetings again (A.A.) like I used to and be of service to more people then I’ll let go of my own selfish misery and become the man you intended me to be. Stop wallowing like some bitch my own drama. Sorry this is turning into a novel. I’ll call tomorrow.
I love you!
Can’t live without you and I want us to be fulfilled (?) one to another, but I gotta do more work on myself.
See ya tomorrow If I’m not under a rock again.
Mel xxxxxx (Heart)”
I am no doctor but… ‘lower testosterone levels = more aggression, demands for jacuzzi blow jobs and threats of arson’ doesn’t make sense to me.