Celebrity deaths are a strange phenomenon to me. Missing someone you’ve never met, crying over someone who you’ve only ever seen on a screen. And yet those people were a part of our lives, perhaps as much as our friends and family.
Trevor Moore died a few days ago and I haven’t been okay. I’ve been a big fan of the sketch comedy artist since I was a child growing up in a strict Christian household. Growing up in such chocked atmosphere, the outlet The Whitest Kids U’ know provided me was like a breath of fresh air after being locked in a basement my entire life. The face of Trevor came to be the face of independence, even freedom of thought for me. A beacon in a dark room. It sounds cheesy. Maybe it is. But it doesn’t matter.
I haven’t missed someone this much in a long time. It feels like some fundamental part of myself has been removed, a key part of my identity dissolved.
Rest in peace, Trevor.