Marrakech – The other day, while stuck in traffic somewhere between adulting and overthinking, I played Future’s “Wait For U” — and suddenly, Casablanca’s chaos felt like the opening scene of a music video.
Horns blaring, people yelling, but in my headphones? Pure poetry. The soft sadness. The mysterious vibe. The quiet arrogance. Future wasn’t just rapping. He was feeling. And so was I.
Which got me thinking:
Why are we all so emotionally invested in a man who proudly calls himself “toxic”?
Future — government name Nayvadius DeMun Wilburn — is more than just a rapper. He’s a whole aesthetic. Cold captions. Ice-watch energy.
The softest beats with the hardest truths. In a world where vulnerability often comes wrapped in Gen Z humor or filtered selfies, Future gives us a different kind of honesty. Messy. Moody. Melodic.
He’ll tell you he loves you… then ghost you in a lyric.
He’ll admit he’s sad… then flex about moving on faster than your Wi-Fi.
And somehow, we eat it up.
Why?
Because Future speaks to that space between healing and pretending. Between “I’m fine” and “I’m actually still thinking about you at 3 a.m.”
He sings what we’re not always brave enough to say out loud. And he does it with just enough auto-tune to make it hurt a little softer.
He’s not our role model — let’s be clear. But he is a mirror. A moody, gold-plated one.
He reflects the confusion of modern love, the blur between soft and savage, the struggle to care without catching feelings.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s why his songs live rent-free in our heads.
So the next time you find yourself listening to “Turn On the Lights” or “Low Life” and wondering, “Why does this emotionally unavailable man sound like the voice of my soul?” — remember this:
It’s not just music.
It’s a mood.
It’s a warning.
It’s art.
And as for love?
We’re all just trying to decode the lyrics.
