This is a tribute from me to @xxxtentacion His music was my comfort during one of the lowest points of my depression, when nothing makes sense - i don’t know what i was doing or who i was, i was scared of everything especially myself, full with anger and hatred and self critiques, isolated myself from everyone else to be inside my bedroom for weeks. I was crying every moment, stopping so i can get some rest just to cry again. I really thought the point of me being proud for not killing myself at 16 will now turn sour at 19. There are nights when I biked pointlessly into Amsterdam for hours during midnight listening over and over again to his discography because once i stopped, i would have to think again, and thinking was always the worst damnation. But I made it through, music was my only company, when people failed to see you for what you are, music knew. His death has strucked me in the full spectrum of disbelief. In fact, I don’t think i can even process it after a few days. I was crying in Concerto watching again his live stream. It’s like a passing of a friend, someone who cared about you, while everyone else didn’t. The only person that saw the worth in you. We bonded through his passing. His fans are my new family, met great people on his subreddit. we held each other up, telling how much we love the other, and how we should always love so we can complete his legacy. This is the critical point for me to learn alot about loving other people. We were a small group in the middle of a big crowd full of criticism. And we loved each other more than ever. I felt un-abandonned. Also realized a lot of stuff, I hate how mainstream media embedded in me the fear to connect with any artist personally because they always have something negative to say about everyone, it has always felt like i’m in the position of an individual fighting off against a mass full of hatred. How many people are so okay with a man being killed, some people even go further to “celebrate” X’s death. Despite whether X has influence on young people or not, it makes me feel uneasy how people can treat the murder of a 20 years old man as ‘obvious’, or ‘triumph’ for certain ideologies - as if we’re not all humans with blood in our veins, and feelings and can feel pain. X’s death raised so much love in me, but at the same time also disgust and confusion toward society.
