Last night the sad, tragic news that Robin Williams had passed away was beamed around the world and in an instant a whole slew of memorable laughs and stomach aches that arose from laughing at his madcap insane humour came flooding to my mind. As the rolling news streamed on the BBC News channel it was already known that he had taken his own life and how he had done it. It seemed almost gruesome that his body not even cold and people knew the details. I couldn’t take much more and went to bed.
This morning I woke up, I didn’t feel ready for the day. One more hero gone and what’s the bloody point and all those fucking cliches.
Then I opened Facebook.
People were talking, not just about his death and how he had taken his life, but about WHY he’d done it. The depression that had plagued him like so many others had been made the bad guy. Sufferers were being listened to by usually unsympathetic partners and families. People you wouldn’t normally expect to talk about Mental Illness were talking about it. The world seemed angry.
The world had lost a genius to the Black Dog and now the dog needed putting down and the world was Animal Control all of a sudden.
I still feel like today shouldn’t be happening, and it really shouldn’t have taken a man of 63 to take his own life to raise awareness, after all millions of us have been doing this for years, but it’s happening and… well…
Genie, you’re free. pic.twitter.com/WjA9QuuldD
— The Academy (@TheAcademy) August 12, 2014
Until next Time…