Another's thoughts on Anthony Bourdain's passing....worth a read.

Monsters In The Closet
JACK WILLIAMS·FRIDAY, JUNE 8, 2018

Fuck.
Human beings are weird and complicated and often maddeningly unknowable. You think you know me, and maybe I think I know you, but mostly it’s all surface. We rarely get beneath that, and maybe that’s for the best. We have this vast universe of shit below the surface and no one else gets access.
My friend from Houston, a long time ago, Annie, once told me, “Everyone has monsters in their closets, Jack, but you don’t want to dress them up and bring them out to dance.” She was smart and terribly philosophical and I was pretty sure she had some insight into this shit even though we were both really just kids at the time. She was a pre-med student back then. She was going to be a doctor. She was young and beautiful and smart and she had monsters in her closet and they got out, somehow, and they killed her absolutely dead.
There are demons – monsters - in those internal human universes. I have mine. Surely you have yours. And mostly, they’re not real in any physical sense, but that doesn’t mean they can’t kill you. It’s such a human thing, this suicide concept. Most other animals never give up. You never hear about a moose or a rainbow trout just being so fed up with its conditions – relationship failures, being overpowered by a younger, stronger moose or trout – that they commit suicide. This week, a rattlesnake’s severed head bit the guy who cut his head off. That motherfucking snake was NOT giving up. I respect that.
Tony Bourdain seemed to meet his monsters head-on. He didn’t do a very good job of hiding them. He wrote about his drug addictions, he talked openly about them, and maybe he hoped that some other poor bastard would see that there is yet hope. Tony seemed as surprised as anyone that he became such a media success story; if he could do it, as the narrative goes, so could you. You could kick, you could overcome, there is so much life left if you choose to fight for it. I think that’s what he meant to say much of the time. He certainly celebrated life, which makes it even more tragic that he ended his own.
What a fucking mess.
We probably all believed he had vanquished his monsters, or at least kept their evil gibberish down to a dull roar. He was okay. He was doing such good work. He was always telling the truth about something or other. He laughed a lot on camera, he ate with families around their tables, he showed us the good stuff in places that might have seemed like hell to us. He was a masterful storyteller and food was never really the focus. It was an entry point. Everything else mattered so much more.
But we never really knew Bourdain. He showed us what he could, he shared an awful lot of his story, and he did the best he could to be honest about shit. Obviously, though, he was still fully engaged in an internal mortal battle for his own soul, whatever that really is. He fought the good fight for an awful long time and his life was clearly full of crazy fucking great experiences, but it wasn’t enough, I suppose.
If you’re tempted to say anything about how at least he didn’t die young, shut up. Anthony Bourdain was 61 years old and had a young child who needed him. I am 61 years old and have a young child who needs me. So you might think he was ‘older’ but that shit don’t fly here. (Yes, I have mirrors in my house but THEY LIE.)
If there is anything profound in what I’ve written, it was entirely accidental. I’m just trying to work through this news. Did he know the earth was a better place with him on it?
And of course, if you’re thinking of hurting yourself, do me a favour. Don’t. Talk to someone. Get some help. There are people who love you, who need you, who think the world is better with you in it.
Remember, “Everyone has monsters in their closets, but you don’t want to dress them up and bring them out to dance.”