Before what I write further down gets misconstrued, please allow me to make a few points:
1) I am not an addict, through some combination of luck, grace, stamina and sheer will;
2) I cannot condone self-destructive behavior, even when I do it myself;
3) Addictive behavior, IMO, is the symptom of a disease but, in and of itself is not a disease (I understand that 12-steppers and I disagree on this point);
4) The world has lost a unique and vibrant creative energy; such people live outside of the rules life imposes on the rest of humanity, and they inevitably suffer consequences for doing so.
I have, among many (most?) of my friends and acquaintances, people who, because of their compulsive nihilism (expressed both externally and inwardly) could be defined as addicts. Additionally, both my grandfathers, both my parents and my sister were/are addicts; only my sister broke the cycle when she got clean in 1990, and she was the most ferocious of any of them.
Because we're drawn to what we know, most of my exes were/are addicts: the last one very nearly capsized me completely. He certainly ruined me financially and left me emotionally shattered when I finally pulled the plug five years too late in a nine-year long relationship. Of my last four attempts at trying to find love since then, all four were addicts with compulsive tendencies, though it took some time to piece everything together. In no case was it immediately evident.
Whenever I think of Amy Winehouse, my mind goes immediately to one of my favorite coworkers (an addict, naturally) at the bar where I work, though he was finally fired months ago for provoking a fight (bartenders aren't supposed to do that). His last name was Black, and his most frequently requested song from the DJs was an extended remix of
Back to Black; perhaps the fact that his partner of over 20 years had died of an OD a few years previously had something to do with this as well. I knew them both well, and we shared hours of humor and the casual intimacy of fellow travelers who've logged many miles of bad road between us.
It's a combination of requiring risk that most anyone less would find unacceptable with an innate ability to justify self-destruction that spurs addicts on, but it begins with a crippled and distortedly negative self-image; it's a complete lack of self-esteem that insists on constant self-punishment. Equally importantly is a heightened sensitivity that cries out for modification or, if possible erasure.
How do you square the image of someone like Jim Morrison or Amy (or my friend the bartender), in high dudgeon of snarling bravura, with an overly-sensitive and deeply damaged individual? Perhaps it's overcompensating and building a mask tough enough that no one can see the hurt that lies underneath, because it's profound.
That's a portrait of the addicts I've known and loved over the years. All the grave pissing in this thread sickens me. And I'm neither excusing nor minimizing the hurt such people cause to their loved ones when I say that the pain they suffer themselves is exponentially worse: so much worse that they end up killing themselves one way or another just to make it stop.