Letters to Kim Namjoon- My safe place.
I hated the flowers, the gardens and the happy people around me. But then you came. You came like a spring breeze with your vintage camera, talking about life, weaving your fingers in the black mane, showing of...
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With my dark side tempting to come out and ruin me, I kept the docile me in check so that I could follow what I was being taught. To not do my thang.
"No backbone and believe other's words". This is what the books say. This is what you say. This is what I have felt over the longest hours. Then why can't I help myself? Your eyes are intense. Saying something that's maybe out of my reach. There is a fire in them. Fire to be yourself, prove yourself. Working tirelessly in a small space, dreams that couldn't fit. You didn't believe in others. Just yourself. Was it hard?
"Because it hurts, its youth". Are you still healing? Do you still feel alone and scared? Have the feelings of your youth never gone away? Are they buried deep inside your nerves?
"Just do you". You did. I wanted to shout out to you that you did what you wrote. So many people followed. Are you happy? Do you still stay awake sleepless nights wondering if you did the right thing or not? I am scared. Just like you were. I am just a little younger than you but I am still scared. You made it. What if I don't? What if I am not able to reach you? It scares me to the bones.
"Passion, if you write it in Korean, it's the same". You were afraid. I can feel it through your voice. I know you were just trying to make a place for yourself, voicing our worries, forgetting yours. I hope you did not forget to look after yourself. The world doesn't need your selflessness. It just needs you. In every form, you will be accepted. You were afraid of not making it through. You were afraid of falling down and not being able to get up. You were afraid to let go of your passion. You were at a tender age and yet, you were the Phoenix.
"Just wear what you want how you want to". You just opened the doors to freedom. Freedom that we give ourselves. Freedom that you gave us. To be real. Authentic. Freedom to choose. From jeans to dreams. Liberation that gives you solace, keeps you warm. Engulfs you and yet, sets you free.
"What I do is better than their music."
Making music was our passion and you gave on all your childhood life to walk towards it with your brothers. You just wanted your heart to reach out to everyone who had lost the will to even survive. I was barely breathing when I met you. You kept the hate to yourself, not letting it get to your pure heart. You wanted to prove yourself at a point when everyone would shut the fuck up and look at the music you make. You wanted to experiment with different genres and wanted to stop at nothing to be bold and exquisite. There was nothing wrong in it.
"Fuck that, I am just doing my thang".
You did do your thing. People hating on you and yet you soared. You kept going with your words and your eyes never let the spark die. Dreams that were lighting up your world were your only solace on the dark path. With the absence of the luxury of following my dreams, I gave them up a long time ago. I feel dead inside. Numb outside. Hearing you made me feel that I could do it all and yet something was holding me down. I was ashamed to admit that even at 26 years I couldn't figure out what was holding me back.
I still don't know. Maybe one I will follow my dreams. Till then I decided to follow you.
