Another lost rockstar…

With so many deaths

I am starting to grow bored.

I remember when rock stars did heroin

And died gracefully, in their sleep.

 

Now everyone has to make a noise

To cut through to the evening news

Where stiff white men in ties

Will remember what the music meant to them

When they wore ripped jeans

And stayed up all night.

 

There is one I follow,

Without a shelf of Grammys

And amidst the stream of

Repeated memories, he writes

“All my friends are dying”

And for him,

I worry.

 

Perhaps it’s the curse of a twenty-four hour news cycle and exposure to all stories via social media but in the wake of Chester Bennington’s suicide, I don’t feel sad. I feel empty. I know there is lose but I think it’s one I knew would come.

With Chris Cornell, he seemed like he had defeated his demons and so, that shook me. With Chester, I never thought he was finished fighting, so when the news broke that he had committed suicide, all I could feel was a sense of bitterness.

In the wake of Chris Cornell’s death, I read the feed from Richard Patrick of Filter as he shared Chris’s impact on his journey to sobriety. In that, I knew the humanity and I was saddened. Again, Richard loses another friend and he shares five words that cut deep: “all my friends are dying.”

Maybe right now, all I can do is repost the same message about how Hybrid Theory was one of the first albums I owned. Maybe I could be angry. Maybe I could be sad. Maybe I don’t care anymore, as I watch another teenage hero of mine pass away at their own hand. Maybe I’m angry at the legions of people who have nothing to say except that they owned an album of his and that grants them a ticket to take part in the grieving.

I know people are entitled to their own sadness. I won’t chase them down to tell them they own no part of this. I just wish people did more. I hate the statues of “my door is always open” or the same old suicide hotlines that are shared in the wake of these tragedies. Suicidal people don’t need open doors, they need long-term support, not drama hungry platitudes. One day, I may call these out but for now, I suppose I am angry and this is my grieving.

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