The Death of an Idol

I saw your face with determination to survive the shithole this consumerist industry decided to put you in. You didn’t say a word, with clenched fists and only your own dreams that were bigger than the stage you’re in to drag you up, you did everything they told you without looking back. I was there witnessing your hardships while eating Pic-a barbeque thinking how you were all honed to think this is the only way to get to your dreams, “fucking capitalists”, I muttered, unfinished works scratching the back of my mind, crumbles of leftover artificial seasoning decorating my lap, and existential crisis shadowing my own dreams that was once as big as yours. It got little, you see, because reality is much harsher, and here I am watching you struggling like a fetishized snuff video to get inspired; that maybe some time, I can be you one day.

But I didn’t say that out loud. Too embarrassing. Too childish.

So watching you is like a fantasia of my broken dreams.

I paused the video and checked Twitter. News about political upheaval, America’s carnival administrations, Communist memes filled my feed. I read, get angered, and again (f*cking again) envisioned my dream cultivating what I’ve been fighting for. I’m such an idealist. Too embarrassing. Too childish.

I played the video again, trying to erase the social reality for an hour and be me that’s insensitive or ignorant to all things that’s happening. I saw you and I saw an idealist.

I look at the mirror and I saw a depressed artist who lost all her worth after this world sucker punch her.

I searched for your name in the internet and saw an idol who’s now fighting his way to be called an artist.

We are kind of similar, I guess. A stretch, but relative.

Or maybe I just really want to have the same hunger you have before that stayed within you in spite of seeing this world.

I miss being idealist. I miss being childish. I miss being an embarrassment. But most of all, I miss being the idol of my own.

Funny. Who thought I can find this kind of stream of consciousness by merely watching a kpop idol undermining a survival show?

I finished watching and get on to my work. Am I starting to believe on my dreams? I don’t know. But one thing for sure, I need to start something to get to somewhere.

Oh, and also to get the means to buy your next album.