I have something to admit.
Something I haven’t confessed to anyone, to none of my friends even.
I have not being okay since the death of Lil Peep, who died of a presumed overdose last week. No other artist’s death has left me such an impact—and I only got to know his music after he died.
I’m being brutally honest (even if I may sound like a whining teenager): I can’t stop crying. I can’t stop listening to his music. I can’t stop reading stories about him—as if that would bring the artist back.
I’m trying to understand who this complex artist was, who seemed impossible for the music industry to label. There’s something about his music, lyrics, persona—and the way he died, that I can (unfortunately) relate to. He embodied this time and age—with his pain, stick and poke tattoos, and love for drugs that make us numb—to the extent that he seemed almost a parody of our time.
Millions of fans, and his friends, have shared tributes to him on social media. Today, I found out that Lil Peep’s mother has an Instagram account. The posts are heartbreaking.
Reading about the unconditional love she had for her son, is extremely sad—yet, also comforting. The loss his family must feel right now is beyond my understanding. What I gather from the his mother’s posts, they were expecting to spend Thanksgiving together.
All my thoughts are with his family—and whoever has ever lost a beloved one. And for the ones who spent Thanksgiving alone. Stay strong.
Author: Sara Kärpänen