Metal

One More Light – RIP Chester Bennington

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It’s a strange feeling to hear that another musician has taken his own life. Stranger still because for my generation Linkin Park helped so many of us through so many rough patches in our own lives. Hearing about Chester Bennington’s death struck me quite hard. As a teen, the words he sang helped me so much. I was a quiet and awkward teenager. I didn’t quite stand out or fit in. I had my small group of trustworthy friends, but always felt like I was battling myself mentally to stay afloat. His voice and his words made me feel less alone, and isn’t that what we are all looking for?

“Because I can’t hold on when I’m stretched so thin
I make the right moves but I’m lost within”

As a teen these and so many other words comforted me. I don’t find it poetic that the musicians that seem to make us feel better, have a lot of demons within. The darkness in the words has to come from somewhere. It’s sad to think that while his band and his voice brought forth a light for all of us, that the same light couldn’t seem to find a place to shine within himself.

“I’ve become so numb, I can’t feel you there,
Become so tired, so much more aware.
I’m becoming this, all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you.”

I know the struggles with depression and anxiety well. Linkin Park and many other bands entered my life when I was beginning to show these signs. I don’t know what I would have done without them. I know these different bands not only helped me through, but they toughened me up. Granted many lyrics may seem dark, but they mirror so many feelings within. When you hear it, and sing along to it, you lose some of what’s weighing down your soul. I know I am not alone in this.

Sadly I haven’t been able to listen to Linkin Park since yesterday, and I haven’t been able to listen to anything by Chris Cornell since he passed away either. It’s hard. Those voices are silenced forever, and we all know they had so much left to give.

I know many people who are broken because of Chester taking his own life, and losing that battle he helped us fight, but we must stand strong and help one another. Use his music to keep moving. Life is precious and while it seems hard some days, we have to keep going. If you are having a hard time, please talk to someone. I know my readers are from all over the world so please find your country’s suicide hotline here: http://www.suicide.org/international-suicide-hotlines.html

You matter, you are loved, and you have so much to live for. We all hope that Chester found peace. He may have lost his battle, but you don’t have to. Talk to someone. Save yourself.

This was hard to write, and even harder to write down the correct words. I hope you can understand where I am coming from. I won’t go on the subject of people calling him coward or making jokes, because those people are scum, and don’t need any more attention.

RIP Chester Bennington.

 

writing

The Mourning Song

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This is a fictional essay inspired by current events. If you are concerned about my mental state, I promise I am doing well. Inspiration strikes in weird ways, and I felt I needed to write this.

TRIGGER WARNING: This essay mentions depression and suicide. If these things have negative impacts on your mental state, please do not continue reading.

The Mourning Song 

© Joana F. Simoes 2017

In Honor and in memory of all those that gave us something to hold onto in our darkest moments, but could no longer fight for themselves. We miss you.

 

 It is not poetic this morning that the rain is coming down harder than it has all year. It is not romantic or cozy today that even with all the windows wide open, the clouds and the pouring rain aren’t allowing much light to shine through. I imagine this is what my head looks like right now. I want to let all the light and brightness to come in, but something just does not allow it. I would turn to my favorite singer’s voice and lyrics, but it’s too hard.

Last night as I scrolled through my phone, as one does to pass the time these days, I started to see little trickles of news that were less than appealing to me. Also not exactly a shocker at the moment, but it was something harder to believe. This had to be some kind of hoax. He could not be dead. As time passed it was harder to ignore. News agencies all around the world were reporting it now. He died. My heart turned to stone and instantly dropped out of my body.

People take a lot away from teens, and their emotions. They chalk it up to hormones, and body changes, but for some it’s deeper than that and their feelings still go ignored. This is why as a teen I turned to his music. His voice, his melodies, and his powerful words were the stable ground I had to walk on when everything else seemed to be crumbling underneath my feet. As an adult it was still a coping mechanism and the most powerful tool I had in my arsenal.

He died, because he lost his fight with depression. I don’t like to say he committed suicide. The only thing he committed was a life of putting forth strong and powerful music that somehow saved so many lives without him realizing it. The battle with depression is a hard and treacherous one. It deceives even the most pure souls into believing they have nothing left to give to this world. It will make a great day turn to dust in a split second, and you cannot reason with it, you cannot negotiate with it.

I am having a hard time this morning. I am ignoring my medication, which I should never do. I am ignoring all the things I have learned from my therapist about what I should be doing to get myself out of bed and into the day. He has left this big black hole in my soul, and I don’t know how to fill it. Am I worthy to be here if he was not? How many people in the world are feeling the exact same way?

People have been writing online that mourning a rockstar’s death when there are other important things happening in the world is a waste of time. I don’t accept that at all. If people knew or felt a quarter of what some of us feel when we hear a certain song or watch a movie that makes us laugh deeper than we have laughed in ages, they would get it. They would understand that not only do these people deserve to be mourned; they deserve respect, our love, and attention.

That was the moment that it hit me. Maybe he would no longer create music that could bring meaning to my dark days, but all the music he’s already created will always be a part of me. I am doing myself and his memory a disservice by ignoring all the steps forward I have taken, that his music had helped me make in the past.

I get up take my medicine. Give my depression the care and love that any other illness requires and demands.

I put on one of his records and let the words and music roll over me, blanket me in comfort. This is a song like no other, but today it is the mourning song.