Yes, thes famous men who millions adored, who produced works that will live on for generations, who, in the end, either gave all of themselves in their craft, couldn't handle the push and pull of human hubirous, or, as my reiligious instinct points me, were searching, and putting hard work to the ground, but will never find that in this world.
No matter the empty hollowness that drove them to make and send themselves to their own deathbeds, the rest of us, on the outside [because I am certainly aware of the inside as these were people and I'm sure my selfish take as a "fan" would not endear their loved ones] are left to really ponder why.
Or left to understand that our hopes in this world, if they do rest in fame or financial success or even just individual career success, are empty and will leave us with a lifeless vessel that the production of our days is all thats left, and the person is no more.
Being our own god is tough.
But what about the rest of us?
How do we look, love, live, and hope for anything when the heros of our days are offing themselves after production of their greatest and celebrated works.
So if the end result of quality production in this life leaves us hollow still looking for more, we better praise the days of anonymity, and struggling, and living.
Perhaps thats whats taken away from these folks, life. Living.
We get to live and struggle and make our ways, but success changes our goals and struggles.
Possibly to areas and arenas we have no idea about and cannot navigate.
So while we complain about the day to day, we should look to the day to day as an anchor to levity that with the extreme highs some experience in this life, come the ying to the yang, the extemeties of the opposite end.
