It Took Me 10 Years to Understand The Divine Feminine by Mac Miller
And no, it wasn’t because I fell in love. In eighth grade (Or seventh, life seemed pretty blurry back then) , I had roughly two ideas of what love sounded like. There was Taylor Swift’s “Love Story,” where love survived because it was meant to. There were balconies, disapproving parents and eventually a ring. Then there was Eminem and Rihanna’s “Love the Way You Lie,” where love was basically a house on fire and two people refusing to leave it. That was more or less the emotional spectrum available to me. Love either worked because it was destined to, or it destroyed you because it wasn’t. Then I found Mac Miller’s The Divine Feminine . None of my friends particularly cared about Mac’s music, and I definitely did not have the vocabulary at thirteen to explain why this very pink album felt different. It was probably my first real interaction with an artist talking not just about love, but about everything ugly, sexual, tender and contradictory that comes with it: jealousy, missed ...
