I lost my hero.

Robin Williams has always been my hero.

And I’m heartbroken that his laughter has been silenced.

I feel like mine has been too.

I loved his silliness. I love silliness.

And I can’t tell you how many times I’ve either watched or have casually thought about his roles in each of my favorite movies. His standup acts. His interviews. The silliness. It makes me love the world so much more than the moments before I’m graced with his laughter.

Robin Williams helped the world realize it doesn’t always have to be So Sensible.

And it was also him that taught me I didn’t have to be.

That I could be free to be weird. and silly.

Hook. Actually. Was one of the first movies I ever personally owed.

My dad bought it for me as a gift. I can’t remember how old I was. But it was my favorite. Until I saw What Dreams May Come. and that was my favorite until I saw Dead Poets Society. Which was my favorite until Patch Adams.

I think you get the idea.

When my dad died, I didn’t want to talk to many people or do many things. My world stopped and watching Robin Williams in all his roles helped my life find happiness again.

When my life was falling apart, I made a list of all of his movies and watched as many as I could.

I, like millions of other people, was lucky enough to be warmed by his contagious laughter.

And while this laughter was juxtaposed by the world’s darkest secrets, I appreciated him that much more.

My worst moments. My hardest losses. My ugliest truths.

Could always be shadowed with lighthearted silliness.

Even if only slightly.

Some things sound funny. Swearing at inappropriate times is liberating. Changing our voices to make them squeak and sound like people very unlike ourselves. is entertaining.

I rejoice in our sparks of madness.

And it was Robin Williams that helped me realize that this was okay.

That it should actually be celebrated.

My heart is broken. But that’s the way it should be.

The world lost one of its greatest laughters.

And I lost my hero.

quadrupled.

Deep breathing returns
our even spell of sanity.
But in its pause—

I appreciate
inappropriate appetizers,
backward glances,
awkward stances,
time retold,
and mistakes redone.

Stolen syllables
and feigned excuses
anticipate our alliterations
and readied followed rhymes
but while our code

is drenched in silence
and stumbled laughter
forms us dual liars,

tangled words distort believing
no one can hear
(not even the other)

excessive thumping
artery pumping
or see quadrupled fire

of hoping. of wanting
dreaming of loathing.
fashioned of craving.