A letter to Mick Jagger

You and I don’t know each other but I do know a little about what you’re surely experiencing right now.

You said you are “struggling to understand how (your) lover and best friend could end her life in this tragic way.” Nobody doubts that this is a tragedy; your pain and confusion are real and they’re not going away. But I’m afraid there’s something else you’re going to experience.

You’re going to be pissed as hell at L’Wren. You’ll wish she were sitting right in front of you if only so you could scream at her at the top of your lungs and ask her what in the world she was thinking. That’s normal and nobody will blame you for it.

I know what I’m talking about not because anyone I love ever committed suicide. I know because 17 months ago I almost committed suicide. I tried very hard to but I failed.

I knew as I was swallowing all those pills that what I was doing would devastate my partner and many other people who care about me. I was acutely aware of the pain they would soon be feeling even as I tried to make my own pain stop, but that awareness didn’t change anything. The pull was too strong. Suicide is selfish beyond words.

But suicide doesn’t make sense. With the end of life there is also the end of pain, but the cruel irony is that in death there would be no more “me” to experience that lack of pain. The illogical nature of the whole thing is what frustrated my partner and friends and what confounds me even now.

You’ll be furious at L’Wren for not telling you she was feeling bad or that she needed help. But suicide doesn’t make sense.

Whatever took your lover and best friend to that black moment, know that she was thinking of you. She was thinking of her own pain and yours.

Mourn, weep, pound your fists, be sad. But please, try at the same time not to let the anger overwhelm you. It won’t bring L’Wren back and she wouldn’t like it.

What I’m suggesting is all but impossible but I assure you it’s worth striving for, for your own sake.