I don’t care if you did drugs.
It’s quite normal to have a hard time due to any number of things. Perhaps you were born more sensitive to others and feel things too much. Perhaps that’s why you’re a great musician / actor / artist. Perhaps that’s why you knew you couldn’t do anything else except sing / play / act. Thank you for doing that. It’s amazing what you do. I love your music. I love your movies. Or maybe I don’t. Maybe I hate it. It doesn’t really matter. You’ve inspired me in ways you don’t know. In ways I don’t know. Thank you for doing it. You’re partly responsible for me being who I am, and for most of the people I surround myself with being who they are as well. I like them. I bet you would too.
I struggle too. Every day. To get through it. To express myself. To feel part of it. So please understand that I for one really don’t care how you choose to live. I don’t care if it kills you. It’s none of my business. I don’t care what you do with your days just like I don’t what colour / gender / sexuality / species you are, or care to identify with. I don’t care if you sit in the bath all day long or drink nothing but root beer. I don’t care if you’re selfish. I don’t care if you’ve been an asshole all your days. Well I kinda care about that. But not much. Not really. I’ve been an asshole too. I care much more about what you’ve made, about what you’ve left us with, about what impression you’ve made on this world and its people to come, and I want you to know that most probably, that’s what you’ll be remembered for in the long run.
If you linger on a bit after you die (do you? I don’t know. tell me?), please ignore the headlines. You already know what they’ll be. They have no impact on anything and will be forgotten as fast as the journalists that write those things about you. None of that matters. All that matters is that you found a way to make whatever it is you make.
So I’m not going to blame the year, I’m just going to thank you and celebrate you. I’m not going to judge you. I will be a little jealous of you. As I listen to your music. And watch your movies. Or your paintings. I’ll continue to be inspired by the life you lived. The honest life you lived. The artist’s life you lived.
I guess what I really want you to know is that you’re understood. I get it. We get it.
And by the way, if you feel more than other people, you’re bound to be an asshole sometimes. Don’t sweat it.
You were amazing.