Day 11: Letter to the deceased.
Dear Tupac,
I don’t know if I should really be writing this to you because there’s a teeny chance you might be in Cuba smoking a cigar and working on another “posthumous” album. Eh.. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that’s wrong.
Being born in 88, I was pretty much a baby when you started your career. My mother wasn’t really too fond of me listening to rap at such a young age, but when it came to you, she always made that exception. She was the one who first introduced me to you actually. You had a 40+ year old Asian woman in love with you. Even had a poster of you on her door. Pretty dope lol.
I was too young to realize how brilliant, influential and socially active you were. I just remember being a little girl and having a crush on Piccolo, but being terrified of Bishop. Being 5 running around the house singing Keep Ya Head Up.. 7 when I started sitting in front of the blowing fan trying to imitate the hook in California Love. Good times.
When I was about 11 my mother bought your book of poetry. That’s around the time I became old enough to really start appreciating how complex of an individual you were. I’m 22 now and I still find myself getting chills every time I pick up The Rose That Grew From Concrete. I read those words and feel the emotion behind each one of your pieces. It’s almost like you’re taking us through a journey of you trying to find your identity. Maybe that’s why I identify with you so much.. because that’s my goal behind my blogs.. to take my readers through this journey of finding my dreams, my goals.. myself.
I’m ecstatic that the world is taking notice of your influence on not only the music industry, but society as a whole as well. The Library of Congress inducted Dear Mama into the National Recording Registry. Lectures are given and books are written about your life and legacy. I think that this is all proof that in the short time you were here, you certainly made your impact on the world, especially on me.
