I’m still gathering my thoughts after the news of his death.

I’m leaving names out because in this google-crazy world I don’t really want what I write linked to all the fantastic and wonderful (and a few shitty things, they know who they are) being said about this wonderful man. My incoherent mumblings don’t deserve to share a google search with them.

My first impressions, the thing that really has kicked my ass, is how everyone and their brother is saying “If you feel bad, call this hotline for help!” That and suddenly everyone remembers their favorite story.

If stopping suicide and handling these thoughts were as easy as ordering a pizza, it wouldn’t be a problem. As someone who has stared into the dark several times, who still sometimes dances on the edge and wonders if I’ll “make it,” it gets really tiring when so many people and places say “ask for help,” and yet if you talk about it you hear “just deal with it,” “snap out of it!” or worse.

Depression is not an “it.” It’s not a weed that can be pulled or a fire that can be stamped out or a monster that can be killed. At least for me. I don’t pretend to know the path everyone else is on. I now know not to put myself at risk by sharing too deeply – I’ve learned that lesson the hard way. Forcing a smile and somehow putting one foot in front of the other daily, that’s better.

I’ll miss the brilliant Genie and all of the great things he brought into this world while he was here.