So Chester from Linkin Park just killed himself today. Apparently it was Chris Cornell’s birthday, which was a good friend of his. He killed himself two months ago.
A fear that I’ve long held in the back of my mind is this: what’s the fucking point of struggling to “be somebody” or “get there” only to find out nothing has changed and you’re still carrying your own misery with you everywhere you go. These guys “made it” by most people’s definitions of success and yet it wasn’t enough.
And yet, these guys helped countless young lives battle through their own depression. Just seems unfair to me that their words of pain can help soothe others yet do nothing to mend their own souls.
Rest peacefully brothers.