Well put, Mr Payette; that just about sums up my day. I love the Twisted History thingy.
In case anyone is interested, Christine Chubbuck
I am so over this. Small wonder I'm on a death-kick.
Ok...back to work.
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2 comments:
My God. I've never read such an intimate, detailed story of this tragedy.
Are these tears I'm crying for Christine, or for everyone like her? All she needed was to be loved.
I once worked with a girl named Brenda. She was cute, petite, red-haired, very sexy, and incredibly sweet. I could never imagine her spending a lonely day, so incandescent was her smile and so engaging was her disposition. I was a married man, but I was neither blind nor dead, and a little harmless flirting wasn't uncommon. I would sometimes walk in on a workday morning singing "Brandy, You're A Fine Girl," sometimes replacing the name with "Brenda."
Brenda was known to be intermittently dating a guy who worked next door. The relationship apparently pleased her, yet she sometimes seemed to be seeking something more. She would occasionally go through unhappy times, but would never really open up about them, instead laughing off our concerns and lighting us up with her charm, wit, and allure. None of us worried much, because she looked so essentially happy.
A few weeks after I left that job, my friend Steve left a message on my voicemail that Brenda had committed suicide. I got the message while in the studio, and the people working with me thought I'd had some sort of seizure. I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe, and it must have been two or three full minutes before I even cried. The shock was as incalculable as the loss.
Brenda's story wasn't unlike Christine's, I learned much later. She was lonely, unfulfilled, unhappy, and dissatisfied, and hid it well from all but her family. The thoughts that passed across my consciousness then are back again as I read this story. If someone had just known, there might have been a happier ending. If someone could have understood, if someone could have simply given her what she needed and wanted, we wouldn't have lost her. It's not as if she wanted something unattainable or unreasonable. She just wanted to be loved, and she was nothing if not lovable. The fact that it was too late was the cruelest of realities. It was, is, such a tragic waste.
Sorry for the long comment. Thank you for posting this. Tears aside, I'm very glad I read it.
I am sorry if it was upsetting. I find it upsetting, at least. When I am not snowed-under, I want to talk about it, but anything I could say right now would be trivial.
It is a tragedy, I agree. Moreso because few seem to really remember...or care. Whichever.
And I am sorry to hear about Brenda; to say that is sad does not even begin to address how I really feel.
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