If I make music and people hate it, you know, whatever. I'll die

“If I make music and people hate it, you know, whatever. I’ll die someday, and one day, they will too.” Thus spoke Billie Eilish, a voice of her generation, whose words may sound dark but are filled with luminous truth. In them we find the wisdom of the ancients: that human judgment is fleeting, that the opinions of others fade like mist, and that only authenticity endures. By reminding us of death, she strips away the illusions of fear, showing that to create honestly is more important than to please the crowd.

The ancients would have said: “Memento mori—remember, you shall die.” For to hold death in the mind is not to despair but to live freely, unbound by vanity. Eilish acknowledges that both she and her critics will pass from this world. Their hatred, their approval, their words—all will vanish in time. What remains is the act of creation, the courage to sing one’s truth while life still beats in the chest. To fear judgment is to waste precious time; to embrace mortality is to walk boldly in one’s art.

Consider the story of Galileo Galilei, who stood before the power of the Church and proclaimed that the earth revolved around the sun. Many despised him, condemned him, silenced him. Yet he knew that both his enemies and himself would return to dust, while truth itself would outlive them all. His success was not in being loved, but in speaking what was real. Billie’s words reflect the same defiance: whether hated or praised, the truth of authentic expression is greater than the fleeting breath of critics.

Or recall Emily Dickinson, who wrote nearly two thousand poems, most of them unseen in her lifetime. She knew her work might never be loved while she lived, but she wrote anyway, pouring her soul into lines that now shine across centuries. Her neighbors may have dismissed her, but death has silenced them while her voice endures. She, like Eilish, accepted that mortality makes the scorn of others meaningless, and that only the courage to create matters.

The meaning of Eilish’s words is clear: do not be enslaved by the opinions of others. Whether they hate or adore you, all are mortal, and their voices are brief. What matters is that you live true to yourself, creating what burns in your heart before time steals your chance. Death is not an enemy here, but a liberator, cutting the cords of fear and reminding us that life is too short to live by another’s expectations.

The lesson, then, is this: if you wish to live fully, remember your mortality. Use it not as a shadow to cower under, but as a fire to drive you. Create your art, live your truth, speak your mind—whether others scorn or praise you, it matters little, for soon all shall pass. The only tragedy is to silence yourself in fear of those who will one day be gone, just as you will.

Practical counsel follows: each day, ask yourself, “If this were my last day, would I live it in fear of others’ judgment?” If the answer is no, then act boldly. Write the song, paint the canvas, speak the truth. Do not waste your brief years waiting for universal approval. For the voices of critics fade into silence, but the work born of authenticity may echo long after you are gone.

So remember this, O seekers of courage: hatred dies, praise dies, even we ourselves shall die—but truth endures. Walk in that truth while breath remains in you. And when death comes, let it find you not caged by fear, but singing your own song with fearless heart, as Billie Eilish has taught.