Jesus, but Prince dying was awful upsetting. I was on a generational cusp for David Bowie, but Prince meant something to me. I felt his music. I had kisses to his songs. And although I never knew the man, he made me feel things sometimes. And so, he marked me.
There’s a common denominator of mourning tied up with the memory of our past selves. The death of a famous person is like remembering an old relationship. You don’t mourn the person you were with, necessarily. You mourn the person you were, when they made you feel things. This sort of nostalgia burns you a bit, like when you know you’re in the sun too long, but it feels too delicious to cover up just yet.
When I hear Prince, I remember lots of detail from years past of sitting in my bedroom, daydreaming. Or doing homework, or studying late, thinking about someone who didn’t notice…
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