David Ruffin, one of the greatest voices to ever emerge from Motown, spent his final years consumed by bitterness and self-destruction. Known for his powerful performances and hits like “My Girl” with The Temptations, Ruffin’s career, however, was overshadowed by deep personal feuds, addiction, and a relentless war against those who tried to help him.

As he approached the end of his life, Ruffin’s story became a tragic tale of genius gone awry. Just before his death, he confirmed the shocking rumor that had haunted him for decades: the musicians he hated most weren’t his rivals, but the people who once stood by him—the same figures who had tried to save him from his darkest moments.

It all started in 1967 when Ruffin, then the lead singer of The Temptations, demanded solo recognition akin to that of Diana Ross in the Supremes. But Otis Williams, the band’s founder, and the other Temptations didn’t view Ruffin as their leader—they saw him as a talented but problematic member. Tensions escalated, with Ruffin starting to travel separately and questioning the group’s finances. His growing ego and erratic behavior, exacerbated by drug use, led to his firing in 1968.

Ruffin’s response to his dismissal was venomous. He believed The Temptations would never survive without him, but the band moved on, even offering him a chance to return twice—only to be met with his refusal, the result of his addiction. The tension between Ruffin and Williams became emblematic of Ruffin’s inability to accept the idea of being replaceable, despite the truth staring him in the face.

The most heartbreaking of all his feuds was with Melvin Franklin, the moral center of The Temptations. Their rivalry was rooted in different visions of responsibility and respect. Franklin, who believed in collective discipline, couldn’t tolerate Ruffin’s behavior. The two men’s relationship deteriorated, with Ruffin’s actions driven by jealousy and Franklin’s belief in doing what was best for the group. This destructive fallout, which extended to Ruffin’s other bandmates like Eddie Kendricks and Paul Williams, reflected the deepening divide caused by Ruffin’s paranoia and drug addiction.

But perhaps the most emotionally painful of his conflicts was with his replacement, Dennis Edwards. Ruffin, unable to accept being replaced, sabotaged Edwards’ performances, undermining his credibility at every turn. What started as a professional dispute soon became personal warfare, with Ruffin’s bitterness festering for years.

Despite their years of animosity, Ruffin’s feud with Barry Gordy, the mastermind behind Motown, stands as the most telling of all. After years of questioning his finances and demanding better treatment, Ruffin was deemed a threat to the Motown system that Gordy had carefully built. As his addiction worsened, the label’s efforts to contain Ruffin’s erratic behavior led to his eventual ousting, with Gordy choosing to prioritize the stability of the label over any individual artist, no matter how talented.

Ruffin’s bitterness also extended to his personal relationships. His violent and destructive relationship with Tammy Terrell, which ultimately ended in 1967, mirrored his struggles with jealousy and possessiveness. While Marvin Gaye offered Terrell the healing and respect Ruffin could never give, Ruffin’s jealousy and hatred festered.

As he aged, Ruffin became increasingly isolated, and the people who tried to help him—like Daryl Hall and John Oates, who hoped to revive his career—became the latest casualties in his self-destructive war against those who sought to offer him a lifeline. His addiction, combined with his paranoia, turned professional collaborations into personal battlegrounds, ruining friendships that had once been rooted in mutual respect.

David Ruffin’s life and career were consumed by feuds, both professional and personal, which ultimately led to his tragic demise in 1991. In his final years, Ruffin couldn’t understand that the people he despised the most—the musicians who tried to save him from himself—were the ones who truly cared for him.

His feuds were not just about creative differences or business disputes. They were about a brilliant but broken man who couldn’t accept help, love, or forgiveness. David Ruffin’s greatest enemy wasn’t the world around him, but the man he saw when he looked in the mirror—a man who refused to accept the consequences of his own actions. Ruffin’s legacy remains one of musical brilliance tainted by a lifetime of self-inflicted destruction.