I was reading about Whitney Houston last night, and saw those horrible pictures of her in shambles.
Really made me feel sad to see this singer like that – she made the ‘melisma’ popular, so popular that singing came to mean only singing in this style. Every reality tv kid was doing it, overdoing it, so much so that, I read somewhere, her songs had to be banned.
Melisma – of singing many notes over a single syllable. Like Indian classical singers do, but in a different style. Houston made it sound like magic. Surely such as great soul could not die like that?
And Amy Winehouse? And Jackson? One could say they ‘died of success’.
But drugs had a role too. They wanted to kill themselves, at some level of subconscious thinking.
We drink tea, alcohol, we smoke. And these are poisons that are allowed by government and society because they are slow. But not certain poisons because they are too strong.
Today I am free of cigarettes and nicotine. Nicotine, a highly addictive drug. Why did I need it? To treat myself of unknown issues? For relief? To remain high all day long? A support without which it had become hard to live? I never needed it in the first place. There was no cause to drink either. But it took me on, without control. I wanted to let it go on, wherever it took me. To the conclusion.
It’s heartbreaking to see their cheerful, healthy, smiling faces, full of life and zest, and then the pale, putrid, scar ridden, contorted faces.
They were already dead.
They had given up on all the good things of life.
They were de facto awaiting death.