🎂 The Girl of the Hour 🎂
My dear KD Lady,
I have to admit: today, I’m having a hard time finding the words, let alone getting out of bed.
It’s beautiful outside. I’m alive. There are endless possibilities. But right now, in this moment as I’m writing this, as a anthropomorphic pile of bones deluging emotions on the floor of my apartment, spinning a silver lining seems to be outside of my skill set.
A messy, ugly, emotion: when mourning your death seems to outweigh celebrating your life. I need to fight this imbalance, as hard as you fought for your health and happiness, every day. It feels like an arduous task to carry on knowing you’ve witnessed and known True Goodness in your life and it’s been taken away.
I look at your tattoo on my arm every morning and remember: your legacy is your fearlessness, compassion, and heart. I need all three of these in my arsenal more than ever since, as of late, I’ve been feeling scared and numb and I actually hate admitting that out loud.
All I can do is be happy you touched my life, KD. I’m devastated that you’re gone, and that won’t ever change, but beyond grateful that you were even born at all; that out of all the noodle joints in L.A., you walked into mine. Your birth was the ultimate butterfly effect and before we knew it, none of our worlds would ever be the same.
Okay. Time to get up now. Wash away these raccoon eyes. Smell the flowers, blow out the candle. I promise to be nice today, even if I don’t want to be.
Happy birthday, you lovely weirdo. I miss you every fucking second of every fucking day.
Love, KC to your KD