Amy Winehouse is dead.
I found out just a little while ago, when I sat down in front of my computer.
I read the headline on my homepage and it took my breath away.
And then I cried a little.
She wasn’t my friend.
She wasn’t even my favorite artist (th0ugh her talent was unmistakable)
She was a woman embroiled in a battle against the demons that plauged her
and I can relate to that
I know the cause of death has yet to be officially determined
I will dare to assume that her demise was a predictable one
and possibly avoidable
(I say possibly, because even those of us in recovery know we are one drink or -insert addiction of choice- away from diaster, and still, some us just cannot ignore the siren call of self-destruction)
But knowing that she was headed towards tragedy
doesn’t make it any less painful for those who loved her
who lost her
who maybe gave up on her
I’m not trying to euologize her
that’s not my place
I am reminded (once again)
Addiction is the great equalizer
It can turn CEO’s into homeless vagabonds
Doctors into disgraced members of an unforgiving society
artists and poets and musicians into tortured souls
school teachers and interior designers into inmates
and when it takes us out
it doesn’t look back
it doesn’t say sorry
it doesn’t care who or what we leave behind
it shows no mercy
and it doesn’t give a $hit how rich or beautiful or smart or funny we (think) we are
And for every Amy Winehouse that makes it on the front page of Yahoo or CNN or MSNBC
there are thousands who perish silently
and I sit here
thinking about all of it
kind of angry
a little bit unnerved
i’m sitting here thinking
I’ll be damned
if I go out like that