I'm very sad about Heath Ledger. He was one of my favorites.
My dad was lying on the couch in the family room watching CNN, because he's boring, and I was on the computer, doing something pointless, because I'm me. I heard him yell for me, I think he thought I was in the basement. I wasn't sure what he wanted, his tone of voice seemed sort of urgent. That was when he told me. "Heath Ledger is dead." Obviously my first reaction was that he had gotten the information wrong. I read it for my self on cnn.com, but I still don't really believe it. There is a part of me that honestly expects Heath to show up on the news tomorrow with a very Twain-esque "reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated." Because- Patrick Verona cannot be dead. It's not possible. When I told my mother the news, I laughed. Inappropriate, I know, but the words coming out of my mouth just seemed so rediculous.
I still have a magazine cut-out, an ad for 10 Things I Hate About You, on my bedroom wall. I also have not one, but two James Dean posters in my room. Coincidence? I think not. Both eternally young, beautiful, and cool; both figures that will always raise the question of what would have come of their obvious talents had they not died so tragically young.