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of potential friends

I feel really guilty about this. John was a friend of a friend who I generally only saw at larger role playing gatherings and occasionally on New Year's Eve. From what little contact I had with him it seemed fairly clear that we were very different people and our personalities simply did not mesh well. Either way he was very close to our mutual friend, Matt, so I tolerated his presence at such gatherings.

It's now been a few months since John committed suicide. Apparently he was madly devoted to an older woman and she left him. He hung in there for a while, struggling to pick up the pieces of the life he once had, but despair eventually took it's toll. John no longer saw light at the end of his tunnel.

When I first heard about John's death it really didn't affect me much. I expressed my sympathies to Matt of course, but any direct effect was slight. Well, that all changed two weeks ago. I was on-line chatting with Matt when he mentioned offhand that he had some things for me 'since I was a Prince fan'. It seems John and I shared more in common than I thought.

So now I sit listening to CD's which once belonged to John and thinking about what else I didn't take the time to learn about him. His interests, his dislikes, his passions. We may have been very similar. We may have become close friends. Now I will never know.

of self

Deep depression.

People who have not experienced it will never understand it. Even looking back now I have difficulty understanding why I couldn't shake it off. None of the issues were overly difficult. In fact, most were quite trivial in retrospect. But at that time I could not be happy.

I wallowed in the pits of despair, desiring help, but able to accept none. Counselors, family, friends... all were there, but nothing mattered. I might as well have been dead. I would have been if I did not possess a greater fear of death than of anything with which life can torment.

Suicide is perhaps life's greatest contradiction. It is regarded as a coward's escape, yet to draw that blade, pull that trigger, or leap from that chair... to actually commit the act takes a amazing amount of courage. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

I never had the courage to do it. I'm glad I didn't now. Although it's near impossible to accept when you are so far down, there will be better times. You will see the sun again. You will receive praise and acceptance from others. You will accomplish your goals.

All you have to do is take the courage you have invested in dying and use it to defeat your demons. There is tremendous power in your conviction. Use it.

of incredible loss

There is a lump in my throat even now -- a dry coppery taste on my tongue. Suicide has silenced yet another musical genius. Michael Hutchence is dead.

When I first heard the news, I was sure it was a hoax. Surely someone as talented and intelligent as Michael wouldn't think of such a thing, right? He was just getting things back on track... why would he throw all that hard work away?

After a while, the details were revealed one by one and it became clear that this was no hoax. It slowly began to sink in. I was startled at the depth of my feelings.

I'm really not sure why the news of his passing affected me as deeply as it did. I was never a big INXS fan. I heard their stuff on the radio a lot growing up and often sang along, but a fan? Not me.

So why the dramatics? Why is this suicide different from Kurt Cobain's? I felt little to no feelings after Kurt's passing. But this one gets to me. Why?

In part I suppose it's the lingering effects of Michael's lyrics. The raw power and poetic strength of his verse was astounding. It's even more astounding to think that his songs were radio hits in a time when fatuous vacancy was de rigeur.

His was a voice of intelligence and sensitivity in a time dominated by disposable sensibilities and plastic posable protagonists. Michael was an icon of the eighties. A powerful voice of my generation silenced far too soon.

Farewell, Michael... may you find purpose for your wings.

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