These past couple of days have consisted of me cruising through the moments and then the memory that Mac Miller is dead fr fr makes me whiplash and my stomach sinks as does the realization. It’s like a splash of paint cascading down a window, slowly recolouring it. Life seems so much more exposed like naked trees in autumn.
I’ve had 3 major whiplash situations this year (regarding the loss of someone) : Avicii, Xxxtentacion, and Mac. It’s like their deaths exposed the inner workings of a glamourized matrix. They showed me that the intuitive knowing I had but was trying to discount was spot on.
They forced me to take my senses more seriously and to focus on love more.