One More Light

“If they say, who cares if one more light goes out in the sky of a million stars? It flickers, flickers. Who cares when someone’s time runs out, if a moment is all we are. We’re quicker, quicker. Who cares if one more light goes out? Well I do.”

Music is decidedly one of the best tools I use in the fight against the string of mental and emotional disorders that I’ve accumulated after years of trauma and abuse. I’ve found that medication, no matter how low I fall, can’t always pick me up quite like hearing the powerful account through another’s song. In just a couple of minutes I have an understanding that I am not alone in this mortal struggle. It’s a relief to hear their voice telling a story so similar to my own. It’s a relief.

This isn’t to say I’m happy someone else had enough pain to mold it in to art, it’s a testament to our world. And what a bleak one it is. So many have failed their children that art is abundant and has been for generations. People grab hold of that chain binding their family and drag it along until they can pass it along to their own. A generational curse continues until one child says enough is enough and rebels against that fate. I am that child; that is why I find comfort in the masses pouring their hearts out in an attempt to thwart the cruelty and neglect. They are my tribe and my relief.

My relationship with music began on the edges of summer in middle school. Years of torment from my parents and traumatic sexual abuse had left me walking a path with no real purpose. I didn’t have a god to look to. I barely maintained friendships. Depression was beginning to blossom and at the turn of each season I would write a new suicide note. It was a spiral and no one was there to catch me. That was until through a borrowed CD I heard Chester Bennington for the first time. Chills still run through me when I think of the moment I sat on the deep green shag carpet and listened to the depth of the lyrics he was belting out through my Walkman headphones. My world changed that afternoon.

I’m almost certain I ran through a pack of batteries in a weeks’ time trying to absorb every single inflection, to burn each word through my heart and in to my soul. It may have been the timing but that band became critical to lean on as a crutch to carry me through the turbulent years that were still to come. Chester gave me hope that maybe I wouldn’t have to go yet. I had a sliver of golden light that I might make it to adulthood, broken but still in existence. They gave me a gift unlike any other, something not a single person in my life at the time had even attempted to give me.

Regardless of the severity of my day I could always turn on my radio and find a sense of peace. This would be my answer to every difficult situation I was ever faced with. The bands gradually became more and my tastes evolved but he always had a special place in my playlist. He was the reason I still managed to carry myself forward despite it all. To spit in the face of my upbringing, I used their songs as a pedestal in which to stand. They were fuel to a teenager’s power.

As I aged I still listened to music hours each day and soon the band that I adored was shelved for a bit. There were new bands and new songs to discovery, I couldn’t keep up. It wasn’t until I heard the gut wrenching news that Chester had taken his life that I quickly pulled them back to my heart. I staggered to the shelf with purpose and gave their new CD a listen. It was long past time I did but I just couldn’t. He was gone, I could never thank him for saving my life time and time again. It went back on the shelf again as I composed myself.

The man I’d looked up to for fighting his demons and winning had now lost. He was never coming back. If I listened to that CD I would have to truly say goodbye. So for a long time I cried and let it all go. I mourned deeply for this massive loss. If he couldn’t win, how could I? I wasn’t nearly as strong or talented. I didn’t have a leg to stand on. Or so I thought. The stages of grief were real, I began broken and slowly allowed the anger to set in. The entire process was true to me. He was a friend I hadn’t met. The weeks turned to months and soon years would pass. Chester Bennington was gone and I had little hope I’d be on this Earth much longer myself.

After years of writing letters to my loved ones about my imminent demise I stopped. No more poorly scrawled notes telling them how they had done this to me. It was time. I was tired and broken. I sat on my porch with a scarf to snuff out my life. I’d tested it and knew it would be just fine. No one would miss me, not really. Their emotional attachments were all that were holding them back, I didn’t really serve a purpose here. Never did. I was a waste of oxygen.

I lit my last cigarette and turned on a video montage that was circulating social media at the time. It was of Chester and featured one of their last songs, “One More Light.” If I was saying goodbye to my existence I might as well say goodbye to them as well. They’d given me so much through my teens that I owed it to them to listen one final time. I closed my eyes, took a long drag, and heard him out. He spoke to me as he always had, clearly and strongly. The lyrics felt like they were written for all of us on the edge, ready to jump. He was asking us to stay. When he asks who cares if one more light goes out and says he cares… it hits. It punctures holes in your preconceived notions that there isn’t any hope and shines in something so brilliant. So meaningful.

A knot was growing in my throat and tears were falling without any signs of stopping. Again, this band, was there to coax me back to a reality with some sense of light. I finished my cigarette that night and went back inside. It may sound insane to some and to others, you know what I mean. You understand how something like music can change your entire outlook. It gives you friends and holds you close. It never lets you down. It is always there even when you feel all alone.

Since that moment I’ve had a handful of other attempts on my life. I just get so beaten down that I give up. Fighting isn’t always worth it in my book. I’ll have a smoke, some coffee, and then listen to this song. I sit and ponder if we met, would he want this? It always makes me hesitate enough to step back inside and sleep away some of the pain. Music has saved my life more than once and I’m sure it will keep its track record.

This last year has been especially painful as I dig through my repressed memories to write a book about my life. Things have changed so much and as a creature of habit it scares me. 2019 was a year of self-reflection and growth. I’ve done more this year to better my life than ever before. Music is always in my ears as I work, cook, clean, write, and even sleep. It goes everywhere with me.

At the age of ten years old I wrote my first suicide note. At twenty-seven I’ve written three this year alone. It isn’t a cry for attention, I genuinely need help. Dying has been an obsession for so long that it’s now habit. It’s difficult at times to determine where I should be only because I didn’t envision that I’d make it this far. Dreams stopped being a thing. Hopes were tossed away. I was going to die before reaching this age, or so I thought. Now I’m here and there a moments when it’s overwhelming.

I’ve spent this last year listening to that song on and off, trying to find meaning in each word. Even as I type this, it is on repeat. I don’t want to forget the emotions Linkin Park and Chester Bennington have given me. The light they’ve shone in to my pitiful life. I wouldn’t be here if not for music and my music really began with them. They were my awakening, so to speak.

So this is my hopefulness for the new year. I sincerely hope that I can make it one year without writing another note bidding farewell. I want to use these words and write my own story. It won’t be easy but I’ve already been through so much that I have a good grasp on how dark things can be. 2020 won’t be my year, I can’t jinx it this early on, but I will make it through. I will be here this time next year, still listening away my problems.

Should’ve stayed, were there signs I ignored?

Can I help you not to hurt, anymore?

We saw brilliance when the world was asleep.

There are things that we can have but can’t keep.

If they say,

Who cares if one more light goes out in a sky of a million stars?

It flickers, flickers.

Who cares when someone’s time runs out if a moment is all we are.

We’re quicker, quicker.

Who cares if one more light goes out?

Well I do.

The reminders pull the floor from your feet.

In the kitchen, one more chair than you need, and you’re angry, and you should be, it’s not fair.

Just ‘cause you can’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

If they say,

Who cares if one more light goes out in a sky of a million stars?

It flickers, flickers.

Who cares when someone’s time runs out if a moment is all we are.

We’re quicker, quicker.

Who cares if one more light goes out?

Well I do.

If they say,

Who cares if one more light goes out in a sky of a million stars?

It flickers, flickers.

Who cares when someone’s time runs out if a moment is all we are.

We’re quicker, quicker.

Who cares if one more light goes out?

Well I do.

Well I do…..