Dear Mac Miller

Apollo Fields | Dear Blank | Dear Mac Miller | Terrence Huie | Writer

Dear Mac Miller,

The first song I ever heard by you was Donald Trump back in high school. I thought was too poppy and that you were too cocky but I would later learn that’s what made you so endearing. It was hard to watch you struggle in your last few moments on earth, but you still made beautiful music expressing your struggle—much in the same way that Amy did. It’s crazy to watch celebrities create with so much pain while we just passively consume and laud the entertainment. I feel like you only learn about the cage of being a celebrity after the lights go on and the metal door slams shut. I miss you man.

I miss your cockiness and youthful energy. I miss your rhyme schemes and vulnerability. It makes e sick to think you’d be 30 today and how much fun you would have in your 30s. I don’t even want to think about the joy you’d get from being a father.

I don’t believe in heaven  so I hope you’re still dreaming. I hope your dreams aren’t tormenting you in the “afterlife.” My dreams have been filled with more nightmares lately, which is odd. I can’t think of a happier time in my life.  Maybe it’s our brain’s way of telling us to push further and never be complacent. Humans at the beginning were extremely nomadic peoples. I wonder what they dreamt of.

I hope you’re taking the stage with Biggie,
Smoking’ a Big L with Pac,
Cartoons loud on the TV,
Can’t even hear the K.I.D.S. Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Let ‘em in!”
“Let ‘em in!”

You made a promise to your momma that you’ll bless her with some grandkids—so she can spoil ‘em; until the you were just gettin’ dollar doin what you gotta, “can a man live?”

Well you did, Mac, you really did. And if you didn’t leave your momma any grandkids you spoilt the fuck outta us. RIP. HBD.

Love,
Terrence”