The way you’d shake your head and scream along to the music at the top of your lungs when the doors were closed, I thought I was witnessing a revolution. And I was, you are a revolution.

Then years later on a stage in front of us all, I wasn’t the only witness to it anymore. Roses on the back of your arms, music coming from your lungs and you could keep people hypnotized without even trying.

I could never understand how you could see it inside of me. My futures and dreams like they had already happened. In your mind, I was already there. My name was already on that clapperboard. I was already in the film library on your shelf.

All of those dark moments, the strange ways the universe would choose to reveal itself to me, you understood. You would stand there with me and just marvel at it. Finding the beauty in the odd, the beauty in the strange. In those prosthetic limbs and numbers repeating. You helped me embrace it all as my own.

I found a mother at 21. The kind who may not always have the answer herself but would hold your hand through the spooky times.

The universe hasn’t always chosen to dip down in your favor but through it all you still manage to spill art from your veins. And you think its nothing. You don’t think its life changing. But everything you do is. You helped me overthrow everything inside of me that was battling against itself. Whatever strength I have to fight has roots in your revolution.