"I Am Living a Fake Life," and Other Depressing YouTube Comments I Found on My Favourite Songs

FYI.

This story is over 5 years old.

Music

"I Am Living a Fake Life," and Other Depressing YouTube Comments I Found on My Favourite Songs

“Deym this song was my xgf favourite back in high school… found out she is bed ridden and is comatose now… Hope she recovers”

Remember when you were a kid in the car with your parents and your mum or dad or whoever cruised past Love Song Dedications with Richard Mercer on the car stereo, and just for a second, you had a little glimpse of the excruciating pain of being a person? It didn't take long; "If you could talk to Michelle right now, John, what would you say to her?" Jesus fucking Christ.

If you lingered on the station long enough you'd probably hear John attempting some sentence about how he loves Michelle and he wants another chance before quickly dissolving into a blubbering mess. What John probably should have said is "I understand why you left me, Michelle: I'm a desperately weak and insecure human being who has nought to turn to but a radio station in my time of need and I see how that is fundamentally unattractive and indicative of much larger and more unforgivable issues."

Advertisement

But, the Johns and Michelles of the world are integral. They're the subject of many great novels and films and artworks—love that didn't work out. And my God, are they fascinating.

What I noticed this morning, though, in the thick of a bleary-eyed hangover where the magnitude of a "realisation" is very much inflated, is that the comments section of YouTube is kind of like Love Song Dedications. Even on the most uplifting songs you'll see them.

This is why I've decided to find, screenshot, and collate the most depressing comments I could find on the videos of songs that make me extremely happy. Because I'm fucked up like that. Edgy. Twisted, if you will. So, let us delve into the real dark web, friends. Where people sitting at desktop IBM computers in dank rumpus rooms divulge their deepest regrets and woes to a barely-listening, barely-literate room of strangers.

Hate follow Issy Beech on Twitter.