Today, Maya Angelou, at the age of 86, passed away from an undisclosed illness. She was a dancer, a singer, and an actress. But she was most illustrious for her writing and her poetry. Even though I haven't read much of her work (I know, I know. The one book that I read some of was I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings), I do remember seeing her presences on television and hearing about her accomplishments. I remember seeing her on TV and hearing her work being recited. This truly makes me sad to know that she has passed away. Even though she was 86 and lived a long life, it still comes as shock to me.
As of late, whenever someone great dies, or has already died, it makes me reflect on my life. I mean, I see their greatness, their accomplishments, their contributions that they bestowed on society. I see the great works that they've made, and I just reflect upon myself and my circumstances. With these great people, I can't help but to feel envious. It's like they were touch with a special magic; a gift and the package enclosed in it to be successful and influential. I feel particularly envious of Michael Jackson. But this isn't about him, and when I read all the things that Maya Angelou did, and all that she accomplished and the impact that she's had in the world of writing and the civil rights era, it makes me envious as well. I'm going to turn 29 in August, and seeing how these people have accomplished great things, even starting at an early age makes me feel some kind of way about myself. But at the same time, that's good. I want their influence to press upon me; to have an impact on where I want to go and what I want to do in my journey through life.
Shit, look at that. I made this post about me. Let me stop.
Anyway, R.I.P., Miss Angelou! You'll be missed...very much. :'(
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