He Tried So Hard, And Got So Far — And It Mattered

Anupriya Saraswat
Jul 21, 2017 · 3 min read

I’m feeling guilty.

I’m feeling exhausted and distraught and confused and heartbroken — but most of all, I’m feeling guilty.

An hour ago, I found out that Chester Bennington - frontman of Linkin Park -committed suicide.

Chester Bennington, RIP

But those are just facts. Just a sentence’s worth of information that doesn’t really put anything in perspective.

I close both locks below the window
I close both blinds and turn away
Sometimes solutions aren’t so simple
Sometimes goodbye’s the only way.

I heard that for the first time when I was 14 years old. It didn’t even strike me at that time that the song was - or could be - about suicide.

And then I did. And it shouldn’t have, but… it made sense.

(I didn’t pay attention to anything else)

Then I waded through other gems - Numb, and Crawling, and Faint, and In the End - and stumbled upon Leave Out All The Rest.

When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I’ve done
Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed
And don’t resent me
And when you’re feeling empty
Keep me in your memory
Leave out all the rest

I was 17 and sick and listened to this song on repeat. I had no trouble deciding that this would be my funeral song, and would come to good use very soon.

(I didn’t pay attention to anything else)

Then there came other songs - anthems, as I liked to call them - in newer albums with newer sounds with deeper meaning and broader symbols. We were a broken people living under loaded gun, and this was not the end and not the beginning, and we were guilty all the same.

But I was older now, and cooler, and Linkin Park belonged to a teenaged version of myself I no longer wanted to associate with. A hazy memory, an inside reference. Done and wrapped up and closed forever.

Things weren’t better, and I wasn’t healthier — but I had a new funeral song now. I didn’t need Numb anymore.

I forgot - so easily, so conveniently - why I’d needed it in the first place.

With LP’s music, my pain would become something raw and fierce and powerful from its hideous, piteous self. There was glory in my angst, and meaning in my suffering — Chester’s voice confessing that he didn’t wanna break my only testament.

Chester Bennington did what one can only hope to do within this lifetime — to take the worst of the hand they’ve been dealt and turn it into something beautiful, something magical, something that resonates with others and makes them feel less alone in their darkest hour.

(I didn’t pay attention to anything else)

So when I found out an hour ago that Chester killed himself, I felt exhausted and distraught and confused and heartbroken. But more than anything else, I felt guilty.

That man sang song after song about being in pain and feeling alone — and what did I do?

Could I have stopped this? Could anyone of us have helped him?

Was goodbye really the only way?

Did we fail him, just as we failed Robin Williams, Chris Cornell and Amy Bleuel? How many others did we fail? How many others lived in pain, trying their best to reach out and stay afloat and leave behind something worthwhile before deciding that they couldn’t take it anymore?

How many people are we failing right now?

I know that his tragedy isn’t about me, nor will it ever be. I’ll shed a few tears and move on and revisit In The End someday years from now and think about how horrifically symbolic it really is.

And then, I’ll survive. And so will most of us. But what about those who won’t?

We don’t often pay attention, and we aren’t always kind — but please, please tell someone if you need help. Please tell someone when goodbye does seem like the only way.

There’s nothing hideous and piteous about your pain. It matters, so much more than you let yourself believe.

Make us do the right thing — let us help you.


)

Anupriya Saraswat

Written by

Architect. Among other things.

Welcome to a place where words matter. On Medium, smart voices and original ideas take center stage - with no ads in sight. Watch
Follow all the topics you care about, and we’ll deliver the best stories for you to your homepage and inbox. Explore
Get unlimited access to the best stories on Medium — and support writers while you’re at it. Just $5/month. Upgrade