Blake Williamson is an undecided freshman who writes "Blake's Beats" for the Daily News His views do not necessarily agree with those of the newspaper. Write to Blake at bdwilliamson@bsu.edu.

Blake Williamson

Words cannot even describe how much Scott Mescudi’s music has meant to me over the years. I am sure I'm not the only one. It has been in my headphones, my car, my room and my laptop. His music has been with me through everything. In times where I did not like myself, I knew I was OK because I had Cudi in my ears. From "A Kid Named Cudi" to "Indicud," he has always been there for me. 

I remember the first time I heard the song "Man on the Moon," something so fresh and new. Something I needed, and quite frankly, something music needed. Cudi started trends, contributed to endless careers, and he stayed himself the whole time.

On Sept. 29, Cudi was set to release his sixth album: "Passion, Pain, and Demon Slayin'." The album did not come out as scheduled, and it was revealed that Cudi had checked himself into a rehabilitation center for depression and suicidal thoughts. It did not feel like just another rapper doing this, it felt like a friend, somebody who has been a constant fixture in my life.

I could not believe it, a man with so much passion, a man who seems to have it all, could be hiding something so big. He put on a good face during interviews, always tweeted positive things at fans and seemed to always have a smile.

But the truth is, artists aren't ours. They aren't play things that we can love one second and take them off our playlist the next. They're just people. People are flawed; people cry; people get depressed. We tend to treat them like zoo animals. We only care about them if they have a hot song on the radio or an album in the charts. 

Scroll through any artists comments on an Instagram post, you will see countless people prodding at them “Drop an album” “You suck” “Nobody likes you anymore.” Imagine if people were saying that to you 24/7 every time you turned on your phone. Imagine just walking down the street with your daughter, and you can't have a moment to yourself because paparazzi are all over you, trying to get the next TMZ photo.

The argument is “Oh, they signed up for this;” they decided to live in the public eye so that is what they get. What that argument does not account for is the emotion. It doesn’t leave any room for how the artist feels, what they think. Kid Cudi cannot be the only artist that has these feelings, he just is the only one who would admit it.

All the other artists try to hide everything so they can keep some semblance of a personal life. They don’t want something like this in the tabloids. It all comes back to the golden rule: treat others how you would like to be treated. We need to show these artists love. They pour out their souls every day for us to have good music, for us to share. We can't keep treating them like objects. Artists are not disposable. That is something that many people need to learn.