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On July 15, 1974, christine chubbuck died by suicide during a live broadcast of her segment Suncoast Digest she announced that viewers were to see “a television first” before shooting herself with a .38 caliber revolver she purchased earlier that week.

Throughout her adult life,christine suffered from long term depression. People who worked with her noticed that she was often withdraw, quiet, and socially isolated. despite being a skilled journalist, she reportedly struggled with loneliness and would sometimes make self deprecating comments about herself.

She also had trouble with relationships and was said to feel detached from fellow coworkers and romantic partners. Some accounts described her as someone who deeply wanted meaningful connection but felt like she couldn’t grasp it. Over time, her depression spiraled, and she expressed frustration about her job a life direction

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cottoncandysnot

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ok so over the last few months i tried to do things a little differently and wrote maybe 20-30 songs all electronically based but didn’t end up liking any of it so i trashed the whole thing and moved on, but this is one song i wrote for a friend that i didn’t want to delete because it was meant to be a kind of gift to him! so here it is. i also thought it might be cool to post the scanned pages of my book from when i wrote this song so everyone could kind of see the process i have with song writing. will also post lyrics below!

lyrics: in a meadow i’ve planted a white cross / for every piece of skin you’ve cut or burned off / in the wake at a funeral home i fill your coffin with flowers to warm your bones / as others have tried to save you / i have not / where others tried to dig you up / i let you rot / my funeral boy / i know you’re already dead / never wanted to bring you back to life / only wanted to go down there with you / my funeral boy / every time he cuts himself an angel gets their wings / every time he burns himself my skin begins to sting / my funeral boy / you’re no light of my life / no fire of my loin / flowers on your eyes / where there should be coins / and your face is as white as the light at the end / but your mind is as dark as the tar at the bottom of the water / my funeral boy my bandcamp