David Foster Wallace hung himself

I was about 300 pages into Infinite Jest when I found out. The news makes me want to put everything else aside to read it forever, and put it down forever to never read again. It makes me feel like being in Prague isn't that big a deal, or that, like, my ideas of doing something interesting and great aren't that important, even if they succeed. I mean, he succeeded in the utmost -- he wrote literally one of the greatest works of literature ever penned -- and still it wasn't enough...I guess? If you can write one of the Big Four Novels of the 20th century and end up killing yourself at 46 anyway, what hope do the rest of us have, who only aspire to, like, write magazine articles, or travel blogs.

Blah.