Should I feel bad for Robin Williams?
(I am sad he that he must have been in a lot of pain.)
(And I do feel bad for him.)
But this is how his story ended. We don’t know why.
(And really it’s none of our business.)
He’s either on to something else or he isn’t.
My instinct is to feel bad for his kids and friends and family.
They’re the only ones who have lost Robin Williams. (You didn’t, you still have every bit of Robin Williams you ever had.)
But that’s stupid.
They don’t need comfort from me, they have people.
And also, my feeling bad for them is in no way real to them.
It makes me mad to hear people say “How could he he be depressed? He had it all.”
Firstly, nobody has it all. Nobody. Ever.
Secondly, depression doesn’t work like that.
(If you don’t know that, you’re potentially hurting any, and all, people around you. Stop it.)
It’s no different than cancer in that it destroys a system from within by mutating it.
(Somehow cancer gets all the respect. Better publicist?)
So what’s real?
I never met Robin Williams
So it seems odd to mourn him.
I didn’t know the man
But his work was a part of my life.
Mork. One of the first (of many) bad things that I loved.
(For some reason I insisted on saying na-NO, na-NO.)
And "A Night at the Met" was the first great comedy set I ever watched over and over. And over.
(Thanks to HBO and the VCR.)
And all that other stuff.
(Even the really annoying stuff.)
I guess, that’s real.
You don’t have to miss Robin Williams.
He’s right here.
Don’t feel bad about the work he didn’t get to do,
You probably haven’t gotten nearly half of what’s in the work he did do.
(And if you have, try watching it while sitting upside-down.)
Don’t try and figure out the ending. It’s not for you.
(And you won’t anyway.)
Just live your life while you can.
Go do something funny or stupid or annoying or nice.