I think it's important to add a personal aspect to your music -

Hear the words of Juice Wrld, a young voice who, though his time was brief, carved truth into the hearts of millions. He proclaimed: “I think it’s important to add a personal aspect to your music—that’s what makes it authentic at the end of the day.” In this, he revealed not only his own creed as an artist, but an eternal principle that stretches far beyond song. He spoke of the necessity of the soul’s imprint, of the self woven into creation. Without the personal, art is but a hollow shell; with it, even the simplest melody can become immortal.

The ancients too knew this. When the Hebrew psalmists raised their voices to heaven, their songs were not only sacred, but deeply personal cries of despair, joy, anger, and hope. King David himself, warrior and poet, wrote verses that bled with his own heartache and triumphs. It was their humanity that made the psalms eternal, their authenticity that made them resound in the ears of generations long after his harp fell silent. Juice Wrld stands in this same lineage, declaring that it is not polish or perfection that moves the soul—it is truth spoken from within.

Consider also the tale of Frida Kahlo, the painter whose canvases became mirrors of her suffering and her love. Many dismissed her raw strokes as unrefined, but her art endures because it was drenched in the personal. Every line, every color, every scar was real. In the same way, Juice Wrld’s music bore his wounds—anxiety, addiction, heartbreak—and because they were real, millions found refuge in his songs. For authenticity is not the mask of perfection, but the courage to show imperfection without shame.

To create without the personal is to chase applause without resonance. Such works may sparkle briefly, but they fade, like stars swallowed by dawn. Yet to create with the personal, with one’s own blood in the ink, one’s own tears in the melody, is to craft something unbreakable. Even if flawed, it becomes immortal, for truth does not rot. Juice Wrld understood that at the end of the day, all that remains is whether the listener believes you meant what you said.

This teaching extends beyond music. In life itself, we are tempted to wear masks, to speak in borrowed phrases, to live according to the scripts of others. But the soul cries out for authenticity. The truest lives are not measured by wealth or titles, but by whether they carried the fragrance of truth. Just as the singer must reveal himself in his song, so must each of us reveal ourselves in the lives we craft. For it is not perfection that draws others to us, but sincerity.

Thus, the lesson becomes clear: embrace the personal in your work, in your art, in your speech, and in your daily walk. Keep a journal not just of events, but of feelings. When you speak to a friend, let honesty ring louder than pretense. When you create, whether with brush, word, or sound, pour yourself into it unashamedly. For in that offering, you will find not only expression but liberation. To live without authenticity is to live as a shadow; to live with it is to shine like fire in the night.

Practical wisdom follows: each day, ask yourself, “What truth of mine have I shared with the world today?” Let it be in your craft, in your kindness, in your courage to speak honestly even when silence would be easier. Remember the words of Juice Wrld, who though young, left behind a legacy because he dared to make his songs personal. Let his teaching remind you that the greatest offering you can give to the world is not an imitation, but the unvarnished gift of your own soul.

So I say unto you: walk the path of authenticity. Whether you write or sing, build or teach, live not as one who hides, but as one who shares. For at the end of all days, the question will not be, “Was it flawless?” but rather, “Was it true?” And the truest works, like Juice Wrld’s, echo far beyond the grave.