love being different
Never did I think that the passing of someone I’d never met would hit me the way the passing of Robin Williams hit me. I debated whether or not to write about this at all. But even now, a week later, it does make me really sad. So I thought, maybe I should.
When Mrs. Doubtfire hit cinemas, my mom made this huge deal about it. I was too young to recognise Robin Williams and I didn’t really understand why she loved him. “He was the genie in Aladdin,” my mom had said. Now that got me interested. I loved Aladdin and I knew all of its songs. I even mimicked–badly–all the Genie’s voices. So we watched Mrs. Doubtfire, and I thought he was hilarious.
Through the years, I looked forward to any movie he was in. I believed–and was always proven right–that if he was in it, it would be good. And even if the critics said otherwise, I was never disappointed. While I wasn’t the kind of fan that hangs posters or trolls the Internet, I really enjoyed his performances, and I really admired and respected him for his craft.
There is a reason why he is beloved and why he is cherished. It is hard, especially these days, the days where we find a new Hollywood star every week, for an actor to really touch lives with their performances. That is an art! The art of well chosen performances, of really putting yourself out there. He has brought laughter, joy, tears, and inspiration. And maybe that’s why this loss really hits close to home.
None of us ain’t never had a friend like him.
My favourite Robin Williams movie was Jack. This speech always made me cry.