Sep 7, 2019
Purple, Blue
Orange, Red
Dermot Kennedy
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Purple, Blue
Orange, Red
Dermot Kennedy
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If you love me let me go
P!ATD
Haunted by Hamilton, the musical.
If someone told you that Alexander Hamilton is a great inspiration to them, I guess it wouldn’t be that surprising. Historical figure, did a whole bunch of important stuff, died young. Then became the main subject of a famous musical, finding fans all over the world. Checks out. Personally, I can’t say the man in history is the source of my admiration because I know very little about him, but the art created by Lin-Manuel Miranda made me interested. The musical itself I absolutely love. I can listen to the soundtrack almost every day - it makes me cry, so I need breaks.
Now, what if I told you that ever since I saw the musical I have been feeling a bit haunted by it too? Because I honestly am. The entire idea of a legacy greatly worries me. I believe that being cursed with the plague twice also had a hand in that way of thinking. “What will I leave behind?” was the thought making me shiver after the fever subsided.
The only thing I know I can do and share with the world is writing. I have no fantasies of publishing books, getting famous or having a name that stranger recognize. For some reason I think that my time has passed, and I should settle for smaller goals. Which is fine, I just need to know that I will not die when I’m gone.
In an effort to find a way to mark my existence in the world, I came back here, to this place where I used to collect my favorite things. Recapturing the sense of wonder I had as a teenager might be an exercise in the futile, but my heart still feels warm with memories of compulsive writing when blank notebook pages and a pen was all I had. Perhaps the relaxed nature of publishing whatever was on my mind will stir me back to the correct creative headspace. Also, consistency. I used to be able to write every single day because it brought me joy and I didn’t judge myself for the result.
So this is the closest to a safe space as I can get, but that still forces me to deal with the public eye. I want you to read this, I want you to read what I write, but I need you to understand how afraid it makes me feel.
“Why do you write like you’re running out of time” is a great quote from Hamilton that hits me differently now. Without realizing, I was that person, I used to write like I was running out of time, and I am now afraid I did. To be fair, at the time I only had my mother language to express myself and a few dozen friends to share my writing with. My stubbornness forbids me to give up, so this is a new time to start, to carve my legacy with the pain of doing something nobody is asking for. I allow myself to create a new beginning in which I prove my self-doubt wrong. There is so much more I can do, and even if it’s not that great of a legacy, it’s still something.
This has been happening for a long time... Smarten up. Do your own research and be the leader in your own community. This is a global push for truth. #MedicalApartheid #SpreadKnowledge #nurembergtrials FOR ALL OF THEM WHO CONTINUE TO PLAY ALONG WITH THIS WICKED BEAST SYSTEM. #GENOLEXISTALKS #THISISPERSONAL https://www.instagram.com/p/CNpV7chlboE/?igshid=1k0jqv17mlh4n
Something good happened and I didn’t even think about telling you.
Does that mean I’m getting better?
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Le mot que je cherchais hier c’est : méfiance
I
You make me feel like I am hard to love
I don’t even know how hard it could be to love me
I don’t even feel like I matter at all, like I am even part of your life
Im tired of asking questions and never actually get an answer
So I think I’ll just go, I don’t even want to talk about it anymore
Because I can’t feel hope anymore
I can’t feel the sunshine anymore
So I’ll just go
Blue
Is it even worth it? If I have to beg myself to stay alive. Just one more day. One more month, just this year I promise after that you can give in. Is it even worth anything? If I have to beg for anything, is it worth anything at all? Just one more weekend, one more semester, one more degree. Is it worth being alive for? At all? All I do is beg. Beg myself to stay. Beg myself to stay sober. Beg myself to stay awake. Beg myself to keep fighting. I’m tired of begging. Beggars can’t be choosers, that I know. It’s about time I just made a choice. No more begging.