Life rarely makes much sense. It unfolds mysteriously, evolves and often erupts in wildly unpredictable ways that rattle our nerves. In its ugliest moments -- and, sure, in its beautiful ones, too -- we turn to artists to help us sort through our wriggling tangle of emotions, because they possess that special voice needed to articulate and illuminate what's otherwise a baffling maze of conflicting thoughts. For many people, myself included, Mark Linkous was one of those voices. His music and poetry was like life itself: It was sad and beautiful. For some, it was simply good craft, offering a brilliantly rendered view of both human suffering and our capacity for love. For others all too familiar with the music's most sorrowful moments, it offered intimate companionship; a voice that said, "You are not alone."
The death of Mark Linkous comes just two months after singer-songwriter Vic Chesnutt committed suicide, leaving puzzled fans of both artists to wonder how such tragedies could happen, or how they could have been prevented. It's hard to comprehend how someone you rely on to make sense of the world could do something so senseless. In some ways, it feels like betrayal. But both were clearly in the grip of something they couldn't control. For many, depression is a terminal illness like any other.
me too.
