I'm sure if you're as big of an entertainment news buff as I am, you've probably seen and read numerous stories this week about the death of Cory Monteith, a star from the TV show Glee. I obviously did not personally know Cory. I wasn't even watching the show. But something about his death has lingered with me all week. Why would someone who was seemingly living the "American Dream" turn to drugs and alcohol? Why didn't he call his rehab support team, his girlfriend, his family? What causes a 31 year old to have that much pain?
And I'll never know the answers to those questions. And neither will anyone else. I just saw a passage in the book I'm reading today (And the Mountains Echoed by Khaled Hosseini) that I felt captured this perfectly. "I know now that some people feel unhappiness the way others love: privately, intensely, and without recourse." My mom is always telling me the mind is a powerful thing. And sometimes you become your own worst enemy. I just hope for all the private sorrow or loneliness in the world, there is a counterbalance of public love and understanding. I think that is the thing I hope for most in this world.
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