On Monday, January 11th at 2 AM, I woke up to the sound of a text from a friend. Here's what it said exactly:

I'm so sorry. Please have a day full of friendship and hugs. It's going to be okay <3 You're a superstar and will carry on his memory with justice.

What she was talking about was well beyond me. Below that notification on my lock screen was a comment on one of my YouTube videos that read simply: He just died.

My hands sweating, I checked Facebook. Unreliable sources claimed that David Bowie had died. I whispered no, no, no to myself. I searched David Bowie on Google, my fingers slipping over the touchscreen, and I found a post on his official Facebook page.

January 10 2016 - David Bowie died peacefully today surrounded by his family after a courageous 18 month battle with cancer. While many of you will share in this loss, we ask that you respect the family’s privacy during their time of grief.

It didn't take long for my dad to run into my room and shout over my screaming, "What, what's the matter?"

"He died!" I wailed, throwing him my phone. I repeated that phrase until he realized who I was talking about, and that it was true. He spent a long time comforting me in the middle of the night. As he went to get me some water, my mom came down and asked, "What's Julie screaming about?"

"David Bowie died," he informed her.

My mom understood.

As my friend wished for me, my day was full of friendship and hugs. Dozens of my classmates stopped to hug me at school that day. My teachers were surprised I even made it that day. When I got home, all I did was communicate with my friends on Bowienet, my Facebook groups, my YouTube channel, and I cried some more.

To say that David Bowie is my favorite musician is an understatement. Plus, I also really like Elton John. To say that he is my one true love is more like it. He truly shaped my life, and even saved me. I would not be who I am today without him.

I've never been into the mainstream culture. I was the only seven-year-old who could look you in the eye and tell you that she loves Elton John and has seen him in concert. 2006, the year that Hannah Montana and High School Musical came out, was not a fun year for me. I was the only one on the playground who couldn't stand it, and with that and a few other factors such as a physical disability, I didn't have a lot of friends. When you're that young and have no friends to influence your tastes, you make friends with your parents and like the stuff they like.

In fifth grade, I had returned to my neighborhood elementary school after a regrettable year at another school in the district whose "emotional support" program did more damage than help. To my surprise, all of the old friends I had kept in touch with even over the summer had no interest in me. They wouldn't even credit me as the friend who introduced them to Twilight, which was still becoming popular at the time. Now that it was too popular, I had to distance myself from it and find something obscure to be obsessed with. This was not necessarily a choice I consciously made, but I have absolutely no regrets. My mom delivered. It was around December, I believe, that she bought a bunch of DVDs. Among them was the 1986 film Labyrinth, starring a young Jennifer Connelly and David Bowie. I had seen it when I was six, but I didn't have the attention span to appreciate it or even remember that much of it.

I don't remember the time that I first rewatched Labyrinth. I imagine that I was miserable, resenting everyone for putting me through the "emotional support" program the prior year. Or maybe my chronic cough was flaring and I wasn't in school. Possibly both. But I let my mom pop it in the DVD player, and suddenly I had found my new obscure obsession that no one would steal from me.

To give a sufficiently minimal synopsis of Labyrinth is impossible for me to do, so here is IMDB's sentence about it: A 16-year old girl is given 13 hours to solve a labyrinth and rescue her baby brother when her wish for him to be taken away is granted by the Goblin King. David Bowie portrays the incredibly alluring Jareth the Goblin King, and he appealed to me instantly. I was mesmerized by his voice, his peculiar costumes, his suave manner. Ten-year-old me would only be able to tell you "he's hot." But it was the beginning of the saving of my life. Labyrinth, despite not getting great reviews in its era, is now considered to be a cult classic. I found a community of people online who shared my interest and communicated with them, under an alter-ego that I still occasionally use for sentimental reasons. I'd go home after a long day of being an untouchable black sheep, pop Labyrinth into the DVD player, and browse DeviantART and my other websites all afternoon. I still do that quite often.

I amassed a collection of albums and an impressive amount of knowledge regarding David Bowie throughout middle school. Middle school is an awkward time for everyone. There are many moments of weakness on my part that I'd rather not acknowledge. It's a time when many people think that they can start dating. I remained a total outcast in 6th grade because I was still in public school, and at that point I was more sure that I liked girls than I was sure if I liked boys. A significant chunk of David Bowie's ever-changing image involved androgyny, and it was no secret that he was bisexual. If he could be bisexual and still famous and adored, so could I. My family still adored me, and soon I would be briefly and mildly famous.

David Bowie taught me that just because I'm not widely accepted doesn't mean that I'm inferior or need to change. This is the guy who did what he wanted when he wanted, and did not stop or apologize because some people didn't like it. He sported orange-red hair for most of the 1970s and wore clothes that were wacky even for the era. In the late 90s, he created his own website and forum so that he could communicate with his fans. If the users on the forum were insolent, he would not hesitate to return fire. He was always unapologetically himself, and inspired me to do the same. If I was unsure of myself, all I'd have to do is take a break and listen to him. Eventually I'd realize that the best person to be is myself, and whoever doesn't like it ought to just move on.

This lesson was especially important in November of 2014, during my brief and mild fame. On November 10th, when a new single titled 'Tis A Pity She Was A Whore was released, I put on a hat and recorded my joyful reaction to hearing it for the first time. I didn't expect any attention whatsoever. I made it for my Labyrinth fanpage on Facebook and for myself in the future. I got much more than I ever dreamed. Only a week after I posted the video, I had finished my work in science class and checked the comments. I was informed that David Bowie's official website had shared my video. I wasn't sure who ran the website these days. It was likely a team of publicists. So that day I went around telling everybody at school: "David Bowie's publicist knows of my existence!"

My video was not without controversy. Many viewers lamented that they had wasted six minutes of their life. My personal favorite negative comment is "[sic] Tis a pity she was an attention whore." Not once did I feel upset or regret posting that video. I did not send the video to everyone in the world and demand they watch the whole thing. I just made it and posted it to share the love. And for the most part, love was shared.

More reaction videos came after that. More shared love and sprinkles of ignorable nastiness. Here's where another lesson came in: I am not alone. I may not have been able to connect with my peers due to my obsolete tastes, but the people on BowieNet, Tumblr, and every other form of social media all have each other, and we are never alone as long as we have Internet access.

The chorus for the 1972 song Rock n' Roll Suicide particularly comes to mind here:

Oh no love! You're not alone
You're watching yourself but you're too unfair
You got your head all tangled up but if I could only make you care
Oh no love! You're not alone
No matter what or who you've been
No matter when or where you've seen
All the knives seem to lacerate your brain
I've had my share, I'll help you with the pain
You're not alone

Quite often when I'm sad and lonely, I find myself listening to this song. Even though here he's trying to encourage me and tell me that we all have problems and we're not alone, I often wind up crying. Or maybe I often wind up crying because of the message. It's a happy one. Many other Bowie fans have had their own hard times, and so did the man himself. We have learned from him to celebrate what makes us odd and not to mind people who question us. These people simply aren't as ahead of the curve as we are.

Now I sit watching a blinking line await more words, and I fear that I've just rambled and no one has made it this far. But the lessons David Bowie taught me would be all for naught if I worry too much about it. I am unapologetically a sentimental rambler with a very peculiar interest in David Bowie. And I am not alone. My Labyrinth fanpage, which I created at the age of 13, is approaching 10k likes. My Bowie-focused Tumblr is nearing 4k followers. I communicate with my likers and followers as much as I can. I love the people on BowieNet and hope they enjoyed this article. I know that we are never alone at all, and won't be for decades to come.

Not a day goes by that I don't think of David Bowie. I miss him every day, even though we've never met. He was a sort of guardian angel for me, and just because he's not living on the same planet as I am doesn't mean that he can't still be. He's not truly gone. We have 27 studio albums, among others, movies, recorded concerts, interviews, and pictures to remember him by. We have what he taught us, and we have each other. Nothing will take that away from us. Like my friend suggested the day he died, I will carry on his memory with justice.