I can’t sleep, so I figured I’d write.
There’s this boy I met out a few times. Really cute brown guy, really sweet. Apparently he jumped off the George Washington Bridge earlier this morning.
As I sit here looking at his Facebook for answers, I finally understand how difficult suicide is. It leaves you with more questions than answers. I can only imagine if I were closer to him how devastated I’d be right now.
So tonight I pray Whitney Houston’s death isn’t ruled a suicide. Let it be an overdose, slip and fall…SOMETHING. But please God, don’t let it be suicide. It pains me to think someone who brought so much joy into the world could’ve be hurting so much on the inside.
My love affair with Whitney started when the video for I’m Your Baby Tonight came out. She looked so happy, so confident in all the vignettes. My nine-year-old budding gay self tried to learn the choreography (which was an epic fail).
I credit Whitney for skewing my musical tastes. It’s because of her I prefer vocal artists, especially those with versatility; pop, R&B, jazz, gospel; Whitney could do it all.
Eerie fact: I’ve only seen Whitney live once. It was back in 2000 at the KTU Miracle on 34th Street concert. One of the hottest tickets in town (like Z100’s Jingleball) I spent hundreds on a ticket to see my favorite artist Christina Aguilera. Whitney came out as a surprise guest late in the show. She was glowing, her voice still intact…it was one of the greatest musical nights of my life.
Ironically the other surprise guest that night was Michael Jackson; the only time I’ve seen him live as well (he didn’t perform though).
I was never a Michael Jackson stan, but Whitney Houston is woven in the fabric of my love life. Her music helped me thru many breakups. In fact, the Heartbreaker playlist I made last year ends with Why Does It Hurt So Bad.
I feel really bad for Brandy. Her birthday will forever be shadowed by Whitney’s death. She seemed so excited to perform at Clive Davis’ Pre-Grammy party tonight. I’m listening to Get it Back as I type! ::tear::
The other day one of my Facebook friends posted the Mediatakeout story with some disturbing pictures. I instantly had a knot in my stomach. She looked drunk/high, but more importantly, she looked like she was in trouble.
The substance/alcohol abuse program I work on ends this year. Some clients went into treatment and changed their lives around. Others are still struggling. Recovery is tremendously difficult and lasts a lifetime (just like the grieving process).
I’ll never know what was really going on in either situation, but I hope they both find the serenity that eluded them in this life.
Rest in Peace.