I don’t normally post when a celebrity dies. It always has struck me as rather crass, as though certain human beings have more value just because they are in the public eye. But I couldn’t go without posting this time. Beyond the sadness for his wife and children, left to pick up the messy pieces he left behind; beyond the sense of something missed, knowing there will never be another character brought to life by him; I just feel sorry. Here is a man who has fought his personal demons and lost.
I know a lot of very talented, very creative people, and regardless of the level of skill or raw talent or stage of success they are at, they (and I) seem to tow a very fine line of managing personal demons. The price you pay for being an artist, and thus moving both deeper in and floating above regular life? Maybe. But I fear for some of the people I know, because I can see the intensity building. And I can’t help but think – what if I didn’t have music and dance growing up? What if I never loved reading and wasn’t able to hide in other worlds when my own mind got too intense? What if I didn’t have my affinity for animals and my love of water to soothe me? What if I had never developed my group of friends who are closer than family and we didn’t have each other to turn to when we experience the long, dark tea time of the soul (yes, a Douglas Adams reference)? What if I wasn’t so overwhelmingly stubborn and determined?
In the end, we all make our own choices, but the choices aren’t always easy ones to make. And sometimes the weapons we choose to battle our demons end up destroying us instead of making us stronger.