It’s difficult to overstate just how much of an impact Prince’s music has had on my life.
I didn’t have many friends, and my family life was a shambles worthy of yet another sob story post. At times it felt like Prince’s music was the only thing I had that was worth having. Looking back, that wasn’t the case, but at the time it certainly felt that way; I was a lonely teenager suffering from depression, so clear-thinking wasn’t my strong suit.

Prince was unlike anyone I’d ever seen. I’m from a very traditional Scottish working-class family, so the concept of a straight man acting anything like Prince was akin to blasphemy. Here was a man who played with gender roles openly, and defied convention without even trying. This was a straight man who was able to wear bikini briefs and thigh-high boots in his music videos, and make it look like it was the most natural thing in the world. At the same time, he sang about God and sex, love and religion as if they were one and the same thing.

I think that, more than anything else, Prince’s music laid the foundations for how I view love, romance, men and women. Despite some contradictory remarks later in his life, early Prince cared not a jot for sexual preference. The imagery and ideas in Prince’s music, while arguably utopian and naive, told you that love and sex could be a transcendent, transformative act that lifted you and your partner above and away from the troubles in your life. The love you made with another person was akin to a spiritual act, a prayer that was answered, immediately and intimately.

At the same time though, sex could simply be sex. Two people, in the heat of the moment, giving and receiving the immediate carnal pleasure they wanted, that they needed. And that was fine. If all the two of you wanted to do was f**k for a little while and then go your separate ways, there was nothing wrong with that.

Prince’s music was my safe place. I could sit in my room, put some headphones on and use his music to drown out the noise of my home, my family and the world outside. It became the soundtrack to my life, in both a literal and metaphorical sense. Prince’s music was the first thing I reached for when I needed something to cheer me up, when I wanted to celebrate, or when I had something to mourn.

Prince taught me that ultimately, the only person who’s opinion you should worry about is your own. Being true to yourself, who you are and who you want to be, is the key to being happy in this life. He taught me that it was okay to be different. To be vulnerable. To dress differently. To talk differently. To think differently. It feels somehow big-headed to say that Prince’s music made me a better person, but I certainly wouldn’t be the person I am today without him and his music. I may not even be here without him.

Although Prince wasn’t gay, and wasn’t bi-sexual, the way he played with gender and gender roles made it obvious he didn’t see anything wrong with either. Again, it’s worth acknowledging that he later said some contradictory things about homosexuality. That being said, he also seemed to go back on those statements even later still.

Even that contrariness was part of what made Prince the man he was. He was a man who shunned the limelight, but rarely seemed happier than on stage, the centre of attention. A man who almost never gave interviews, but devoured every word written by him.

People keep saying that Prince will never truly die, that his legacy will live on in his music. And while that’s true, the knowledge that I’m living in a world without Prince is hard to deal with. There are plenty of Prince lyrics that deal with death, loss and grief - you’ll have seen them around. And while they may be helping some people, they’re not helping me.

Tornik101 said:

It’s difficult to overstate just how much of an impact Prince’s music has had on my life.
I didn’t have many friends, and my family life was a shambles worthy of yet another sob story post. At times it felt like Prince’s music was the only thing I had that was worth having. Looking back, that wasn’t the case, but at the time it certainly felt that way; I was a lonely teenager suffering from depression, so clear-thinking wasn’t my strong suit.

Prince was unlike anyone I’d ever seen. I’m from a very traditional Scottish working-class family, so the concept of a straight man acting anything like Prince was akin to blasphemy. Here was a man who played with gender roles openly, and defied convention without even trying. This was a straight man who was able to wear bikini briefs and thigh-high boots in his music videos, and make it look like it was the most natural thing in the world. At the same time, he sang about God and sex, love and religion as if they were one and the same thing.

I think that, more than anything else, Prince’s music laid the foundations for how I view love, romance, men and women. Despite some contradictory remarks later in his life, early Prince cared not a jot for sexual preference. The imagery and ideas in Prince’s music, while arguably utopian and naive, told you that love and sex could be a transcendent, transformative act that lifted you and your partner above and away from the troubles in your life. The love you made with another person was akin to a spiritual act, a prayer that was answered, immediately and intimately.

At the same time though, sex could simply be sex. Two people, in the heat of the moment, giving and receiving the immediate carnal pleasure they wanted, that they needed. And that was fine. If all the two of you wanted to do was f**k for a little while and then go your separate ways, there was nothing wrong with that.

Prince’s music was my safe place. I could sit in my room, put some headphones on and use his music to drown out the noise of my home, my family and the world outside. It became the soundtrack to my life, in both a literal and metaphorical sense. Prince’s music was the first thing I reached for when I needed something to cheer me up, when I wanted to celebrate, or when I had something to mourn.

Prince taught me that ultimately, the only person who’s opinion you should worry about is your own. Being true to yourself, who you are and who you want to be, is the key to being happy in this life. He taught me that it was okay to be different. To be vulnerable. To dress differently. To talk differently. To think differently. It feels somehow big-headed to say that Prince’s music made me a better person, but I certainly wouldn’t be the person I am today without him and his music. I may not even be here without him.

Although Prince wasn’t gay, and wasn’t bi-sexual, the way he played with gender and gender roles made it obvious he didn’t see anything wrong with either. Again, it’s worth acknowledging that he later said some contradictory things about homosexuality. That being said, he also seemed to go back on those statements even later still.

Even that contrariness was part of what made Prince the man he was. He was a man who shunned the limelight, but rarely seemed happier than on stage, the centre of attention. A man who almost never gave interviews, but devoured every word written by him.

People keep saying that Prince will never truly die, that his legacy will live on in his music. And while that’s true, the knowledge that I’m living in a world without Prince is hard to deal with. There are plenty of Prince lyrics that deal with death, loss and grief - you’ll have seen them around. And while they may be helping some people, they’re not helping me.

Prince's music helped me too in times of depression, and has also had a tremendous impact on my growing as a person when I was a teen and ever since. We wouldn't be the people we are, exactly, was it not for his music and lyrics. IDK what to say to make u feel better coz I feel pretty bad myself, just that u're not alone, cos we are many to feel that sense of loss and that notion that our lives won't ever be quite the same from now on.

Tornik101 said:

It’s difficult to overstate just how much of an impact Prince’s music has had on my life.
I didn’t have many friends, and my family life was a shambles worthy of yet another sob story post. At times it felt like Prince’s music was the only thing I had that was worth having. Looking back, that wasn’t the case, but at the time it certainly felt that way; I was a lonely teenager suffering from depression, so clear-thinking wasn’t my strong suit.

Prince was unlike anyone I’d ever seen. I’m from a very traditional Scottish working-class family, so the concept of a straight man acting anything like Prince was akin to blasphemy. Here was a man who played with gender roles openly, and defied convention without even trying. This was a straight man who was able to wear bikini briefs and thigh-high boots in his music videos, and make it look like it was the most natural thing in the world. At the same time, he sang about God and sex, love and religion as if they were one and the same thing.

I think that, more than anything else, Prince’s music laid the foundations for how I view love, romance, men and women. Despite some contradictory remarks later in his life, early Prince cared not a jot for sexual preference. The imagery and ideas in Prince’s music, while arguably utopian and naive, told you that love and sex could be a transcendent, transformative act that lifted you and your partner above and away from the troubles in your life. The love you made with another person was akin to a spiritual act, a prayer that was answered, immediately and intimately.

At the same time though, sex could simply be sex. Two people, in the heat of the moment, giving and receiving the immediate carnal pleasure they wanted, that they needed. And that was fine. If all the two of you wanted to do was f**k for a little while and then go your separate ways, there was nothing wrong with that.

Prince’s music was my safe place. I could sit in my room, put some headphones on and use his music to drown out the noise of my home, my family and the world outside. It became the soundtrack to my life, in both a literal and metaphorical sense. Prince’s music was the first thing I reached for when I needed something to cheer me up, when I wanted to celebrate, or when I had something to mourn.

Prince taught me that ultimately, the only person who’s opinion you should worry about is your own. Being true to yourself, who you are and who you want to be, is the key to being happy in this life. He taught me that it was okay to be different. To be vulnerable. To dress differently. To talk differently. To think differently. It feels somehow big-headed to say that Prince’s music made me a better person, but I certainly wouldn’t be the person I am today without him and his music. I may not even be here without him.

Although Prince wasn’t gay, and wasn’t bi-sexual, the way he played with gender and gender roles made it obvious he didn’t see anything wrong with either. Again, it’s worth acknowledging that he later said some contradictory things about homosexuality. That being said, he also seemed to go back on those statements even later still.

Even that contrariness was part of what made Prince the man he was. He was a man who shunned the limelight, but rarely seemed happier than on stage, the centre of attention. A man who almost never gave interviews, but devoured every word written by him.

People keep saying that Prince will never truly die, that his legacy will live on in his music. And while that’s true, the knowledge that I’m living in a world without Prince is hard to deal with. There are plenty of Prince lyrics that deal with death, loss and grief - you’ll have seen them around. And while they may be helping some people, they’re not helping me.

Thanks, beautiful post. Sorry to tell, but not much will help you though, at least not in the weeks to come.

Diamonds and Pearl album helped me get through university...a lot of positivity on that album, I think Prince was in a happy place then

Would like to say thanks to PRINCE

HIS music got me through family passing away and break-ups ...

I feel he gave his all - every bit of energy in his tiny body to his songs - for them to help bring comfort to everyone!

Love you PRINCE - GOD Bless you man!