imagine you wake up every day in room-sized bed. you are gently lifted from the covers and dressed in warmest sweaters each morning. your favourite foods are brought to you. you have no bills, no job, no responsibilities. but you are a chihuahua, so you are blind with rage.
man. it feels so weird being in your 20s mourning a celebrity who you once grew up with. shaped your teenage hood and you made life long friends out of. at the same time not excusing who he became but also trying to grieve who he once was.