August Blues makes me think of Lana Del Rey’s hit song “Summertime Sadness.”
I had never really understood why people could ever be sad during the summer. The sun shines. The sky is brighter. The world seems to be happier.
The song’s been out for awhile now. I know, I know. But when I first listened to it a few summers ago, it was the remix version. The techno, pumped up, feel it in your veins version. And this seemed really weird to me, you know? Listening to a song about suicide, like it was almost glorifying the idea of taking your life, the haunting lyrics and Lana’s deep voice: it all made me sad. Sad it was summer.
Every so often, someone will bring up seasonal depression. And I always assumed that it only occurred during the winter. But you could be sad it’s summer, sad to see other people happy and living perfectly normal, simple lives, and you could still feel so empty in contrast to everyone else. Like finally dying would be the best way to make you happy and everyone else around you happy.
Like Robin Williams. He committed suicide in summer. Maybe it could’ve been any other time. But it was this summer. And people missed him so much. Would they even miss me?
When you think thoughts like this, you become immune. Numb to the pain and the hurt. Nothing scares me anymore.
Really, there’s nothing beautiful about suicide. There’s nothing to glorify or celebrate. But songs like “Summertime Sadness” or the deaths of famous celebrities like Robin Williams, well, maybe—just maybe—it brings more awareness of the depression, the summertime sadness, that so many people suffer.
There’s beauty in saving a life.