Something happened yesterday that made me remember the password from this blog. I was occupied by the regular routines when my husband said: "Oh, the frontman of Linkin Park died". I asked, which one, though before I even said it out loud, I already knew it was Chester Bennington.
I remember I said something like "how unfortunate", feeling as if I fell from an extreme height, shocked and high on adrenaline. The longer I spent with the news, the more pain I felt and keep feeling. And then I wept. And I cannot stop still.
For our generation Linkin Park was more than just a band; I don't know how I would have turned out without them, and if I could go on at all. I don't think I have ever gotten even a quarter of emotional support from any member of my real family the way I did from Chester's piercing voice in Crawling or more subtle and yet more emotional tones in My December. The times I've heard him sing were the times when I could find some solace, that's why I kept listening to their tracks all the fucking time. I've witnessed many musicians' deaths and those were sad, but it's the first time I'm truly and deeply hurting. I'm so sorry that he's gone. I'm so sorry he wouldn't pull through when he has helped so many of his fans.
The fact that this was a suicide makes me hurt a thousand times more. My prayers are now with those who were around him those past days and most surely are consumed by thoughts if they could've done something, noticed something, said something to prevent this. I've been there, and I swear, it's easier to accept a disease, an accident, but not a free will of a person to end his life.
"I've never been comfortable with just being... just being", you said in one of the last interviews, a statement that so many of us can relate to. I hope you have finally found the peace that's been so elusive. I'll keep the memories of your truly incredible talent for as long as I live.
Who cares if one more light goes out? Well I do.
