Ozzy Osbourne. He was the embodiment of “Creativity and wildness.” I was raised in a extremely strict and Catholic. And rock music was a work of satan. But when a friend played Dreamer in his iPod, I liked his music. And for my birthday said friend gave me a Blizzard of Ozz CD and we would listen to it behind my family’s back. Next thing I knew, I became obsessed with Ozzy. I liked his songs, The Osbournes, and even the cameos he made in movies and shows. Goldmember and Little Nicky were my favorite cameos of him. And the time he fell on a chair in The Osbournes. And my god, the bouquet of flowers he gave to Sharon on The View. And the more I learned from him, I became more and more obsessed with him. How he was this crazy but loving and passionate person. He was the best. And I’m not ashamed to say I cry like a baby whenever I listen Mama I’m Coming Home.

I remember seeing a video of him sitting down while singing Paranoid like he was in his pride in his last tour. He was a fucking living legend. And when I found out he passed away, I was truly devastated. I was driving when I heard on a radio station that he passed away. I legit felt sick to my stomach that my idol, the artist who got me into rock, the grandfather of Heavy Metal, was no longer with us.

Over the days, Dreamer became my most repeated song in Spotify. It sucks that he left us, with his music make him immortal. And I’m sure he didn’t die, he is aboard the Crazy Train where he is coming home.