About a month ago, the 20-year-old hip hop artist XXXTentacion was shot dead in South Florida. Personally, I was deeply affected by this incident. I remember discussing it with one of my friends, and she didn't seem as though she understood what I was feeling and said, "Oh, my god, it's not like you knew him."

This is true. I didn't know him; I cannot even imagine the kind of pain that the people close to him feel. I don't have any personal memories that play in my head every day and I don't have to think about the impossibility of ever experiencing his company again. I was never a part of the long discussions he would have about his future, what he wanted to do moving forward in his career, the kind of people he wanted to meet, places he wanted to see. The thought of those conversations does not make my heart feel like it's being steamrollered because none of those plans mattered anymore. I don't have to sit and ponder the existence of an afterlife in order to try to comfort myself that his is not in vain.

I knew his music, though. I listen to his songs every day. I remember the day I heard the news because I was really upset that I lost my headphones and it had ruined my mood. I'm someone who constantly needs my music around me to keep me sane. I recall so clearly that I was sitting at the dining table with my housemates when I first read the headline and my reaction was, "There's no way this is real." After scrolling through a handful of other reliably sourced news articles, I literally felt my heart sink. I had so many different reactions playing out in my head, it took me a while to translate those into spoken words so I could share the news with everyone.

I was angry, sad, shocked, but especially so, so confused. I didn't understand. I didn't get why everything that happened in his life led to that final moment. See, according to me, your life is just a web of choices you make, hundreds every day. The web only stops spinning once you die and everyone can always see this web. When I think of that, it seems so unfair that there's so much more he could have spun.

XXX had been battling with depression but he seemed to finally be making progress around the time of his death. That's why it made me feel hopeless, that it really is for nothing. He struggled for months and when he was finally beginning to feel like himself again and start living again, he wasn't given the chance to. He would spend nights wanting his life to end and when he was finally in a good place—his album a huge success, buying his own house—he was shot dead.

Even after all the controversy surrounding the trial, it's hard to think of how he died as a (possible) criminal at such a young age with no opportunity to redeem himself. The universe played a nasty game with him and I felt outraged on his behalf.

This event made me so aware of how arrogantly I assume that I'm going to live another day, how it's up to me what happens next. It’s scary to think of how it would be if I died now, how i would be remembered. I wouldn’t have time to learn and improve myself in so many ways that I still need to.

There hasn't been a day since his death that I haven't thought about what happened to him. Every time I do, it makes me more conscious about how important the interactions and opportunities I concur everyday are. I think of what he said and it makes me feel at ease. You really will live forever, X.