CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN! Let it be known that Robin Williams death had left me with an ache in my heart. I feared I’d never laugh as heartily as I once did — that simplistic gift of laughter given freely by often tormented souls. Brilliant of mind was he, and yet to shield himself from his internal daemons, had to don the ‘Red Shoes’ of constant performance. The daemons, they are an unscrupulous lot; rogue and with perfect timing, wait for that moment of weakness, then call upon that which can cause a man … or woman, to lose every memory of ‘life’: Depression. Upon a dark horse, a destrier, Depression rides in to do battle with the negative human emotion, to feed upon ‘our’ perceived notions of self, be they physical or mental. Without the strength to be desirous of life—Depression cries “Victory!” And we cry in defeat. From my own depressive odyssey, I imagined Mr. Williams in those last moments of life. I knew the place he was in, knew that moment. “Stand up! Stand up!” screamed I, yet I knew he would not. He was in a place beyond where I had never been: the point of no return. I had always returned; be it reason or cowardice, I cannot surmise, but I have always returned. And so I prayed that in that last moment of ‘this’ life, the daemons that had so tormented him, came to him and surrounded him, and with a smile of defiance, he raised his middle finger and mouthed, “f*ck you!” https://youtube/watch?v=6csfDT5ovps&feature=youtu.be
Posted on: Sat, 16 Aug 2014 20:44:34 +0000
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