On September 7th, 2018, I was sitting at work chewing gum, twisting my hair. Nothing about the day was outside routine, and what felt like a mediocre day suddenly felt like a gut punch when I least expected it.

"Breaking News: Mac Miller Found Dead at Studio Home to Apparent Drug Overdose."

First thought: fake news from a dummy Instagram account.

Second thought: please be fake news from a dummy Instagram account.

It started becoming real when the news invaded the timeline from multiple accounts; real, reliable accounts.

Mac Miller always felt immortal. His character, his energy, his soul felt timeless. When his first majorly recognized project, "K.I.D.S." released in 2010, the Pittsburgh native took flight into superstardom well beyond his hometown. An evident parallel to the 1995 film "Kids", Mac continued the care-free, teenage living theme via backpack rhyme schemes atop youthful rap-friendly snares.

This version of Mac seemed harmless to his peer fans. Even elementary, drug-friendly lyrics didn't concern his core following, and being here to witness the drugs get the best of him seemed as close to unlikely as possible. We lived vicariously through him, and if Mac was alright, we were alright.

The battle with addiction started rather romantically. It's no question that the heart and organic love Mac radiated from the inside out drove his passion to fall for, (and for that matter, fight for) things and people that soothed his soul. Between 2012 and 2014 felt like the most transparent, and vulnerable Mac has publicly been with his fans. When the 2012 mixtape "Macadelic" was released, it became evident that he had recently been under the spell of muses in his personal life.

The fusion of drugs and romantic love separated Mac from his mischievously innocent early teen years, and introduced, for the first time, a potentially significant sign of danger. "Macadelic" felt melancholy, and fans (personally speaking) felt inclined to walk the thin line along with him. Born in the same generation, Mac's journey to find himself at a young age felt not only relatable, but almost identical, so we let him lead the way.

We faithfully followed, not only for the hour-long project but for the years to come.

He followed up "Macadelic" with an equally raw and sonically experimental studio album, "Watching Movies With the Sound Off." Dark lyrics set the tone of the album on the introduction track, "The Star Room", which also includes a graphic, drug-induced music video after a distorted altar ego-like voice sirens attention to let us know that there have been some mental lows in Mac's life:

"But me, I'm still trapped inside my head I kinda feel like it's a purgatory,

So polite and white, but I got family who would murder for me,

Think I'm living paradise, what would I have to worry 'bout?

Dealing with these demons, feel the pressure, find the perfect style."

The opaque lifestyle continued through the release of his mixtape "Faces" in 2014, but by this point, we still loved and appreciated Mac, and felt that coping with his drug abuse was becoming apart of his narrative and legacy. A bit of a problem? Sure. But being around to witness the uphill battle of his addiction made us feel like readers of his novel, and he was our protagonist.

Is, our protagonist.

When Ariana Grande became his girlfriend publicly in 2016, "The Divine Feminine" seemed to be some of Mac's more uplifting and optimistic work, and his high spirit and contagious happiness overflowed effortlessly. Gaining some steam and reputation for his dependency on drugs, it was good to see that Ariana at least potentially brought some sunshine into the Pittsburgh MC's life.

Chronologically, Mac said it would be impossible to have made the album solely because of Ariana, but after the previous four tapes being some of his more introverted projects, "The Divine Feminine" felt "fitting" for Ariana, soaked in high praise of women, melodic waves, and lady-loving features like Miguel and Ty Dolla Sign to bring the album some heartwarming content. It felt like Mac finally found a new muse, a muse we all celebrated with him.

The focal point of this happiness came seemingly to stay. This is what victory felt like.

But Mac's parting gift, "Swimming", was our final endeavor with the gifted artist. Emotional after a surprising breakup with Grande, Mac left it all out on the table; highs, lows, and the comfortability with both. His fifth and final studio album gift wrapped his sudden and unexpected death with beautiful raspy harmony and honest insights to the demons he battled as of recent. Unfortunately, this didn't soften the blow of his death and left the world of "Most Dope" believers speechless and empty.

Mac Miller's legend will live forever. The beauty of his soul is to be forever remembered. His ability to relate, confess, and naturally exist made him not only an admirable artist but an admirable man. Whether rapping about Donald Trump's absurd wealth and fame or wrestling the demons in his closet and struggling to stay level-headed, Malcolm McCormick will forever be known as a hero.

Rest in paradise, King.