By Jennifer Toenjes ’16 | Photo Editor

An extraterrestrial life form living on earth in the capsule of a human was summoned back to the mother ship. David Bowie has become the stardust he coated the world with.

Bowie’s death was publicized on Monday morning, and let me tell you, it wasn’t easy. I attempted to hold myself together as I informed my dad of the shocking tragedy. Bowie dehumanized humanity, and glorified the broken boundaries of sexuality in a glamorous, androgynous manor, but I couldn’t hold it in. Unexpected tears rolled down my cheeks as I casually muttered the words “Bowie’s Dead.”

It’s a surreal feeling of knowing that an iconic innovator such as Bowie was no longer. The absence of a person who most have never met, caused an incredible wave of sadness. We as listeners, fans, and people knew him personally through his music.

The first Bowie song I had ever heard was “Space Oddity.” My mother was a fan, much like many people her age, and had explained to me how it alludes to the British space program. I was immediately intrigued by the unusual sound, and how captivating it was, even though it was played at a low volume in my mother’s GMC Envoy. From that moment on, I became an instant Bowie fan, or a Bowie “poser,” considering that was the only song I knew at the time.

Luckily, I dug deeper into the exotic world of Bowie. I found myself listening to “The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars” on repeat.

I had never felt such a sophisticated acceptance of someone who has only spoken to me through the electric transportation of my earbuds. I felt like the outsider I am, and for the first time I had accepted it. Bowie assisted me in the transition from my middle school weirdness and permanently created my highschool oddity, and for that I am forever grateful.