Death's not cool. June 9, 2010.

“I'd rather be hated for who I am, than loved for who I am not.” – Kurt Cobain

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Kurt Cobain, one of the supreme geniuses of the music world, suffered from bipolar disorder. Whether he took “meds” I’m not sure, but he DID take drugs. Drugs are problematic enough for someone who is mentally healthy; for someone who is mentally ill, they can mean a death sentence.

I won’t get into the debate about whether Cobain killed himself or was murdered; I happen to believe he did commit suicide, like so many famous, creative people. What makes all their deaths more tragic is they seem to romanticize suicide. These people had everything to live for, and they were brilliant; if suicide was good enough for them, then why not you – especially if you relate to their creative works?

When Cobain spoke these words, he couldn’t have known how prophetic they would be. Cobain was loved – almost worshipped – by the entire music world, and he seemed to live a perfect life, with a beautiful wife, a little girl and loads of money. He was attractive and brilliant. But inside he was broken – something his fans didn’t know until it was too late.

In the end, he was just as dead as a nameless homeless person who dies of the cold on the streets of New York. Imagine how many people’s lives Cobain could have continued to enrich had he lived. His life seemed more romantic than it was, and there is nothing romantic about his death.