Manic Street Preachers aren't my favorite band of all time (probably not even in the top 5), but no one's lyrics have touched me the way Richey Edwards' has. Depression, loneliness, fear. No one has ever managed to describe these feelings with more eloquence than he did. It was more poetry than lyrics. The definition of tortured genius.

Feb 1 1995 Richey checked out of his London hotel and has never been seen again. The full story is easy enough to Google so I won't go into all the details here.

I've never seriously contemplated suicide even at my lowest points. The idea of just checking out and starting over though has an appeal that's crossed my mind more than once. Letting the people who honestly care know how much you love them and then setting out to make yourself better with none of the baggage of your past.

Wherever you are Richey I hope you finally found happiness, even if that just meant ending all the pain.