Michael Philip Jagger fucking Rip Van Winkled me and Sara Tam. For twenty years he had me in an altered reality, completely oblivious to who my twin flame was, that we were in a relationship, that he took my virginity. Making me look like a heartless, batshit crazy person, ashamed of him. Something I’ve never been and never will be. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Literally I tried to die to be with him, over being left behind with all these people who don’t come close. From the first moment we made eye contact at 11, we were telepathic. Did I think he was gay for a year, because he wore low ponytails? Yes. Did he teach me a lesson I’d never forget afterwards about assuming such? Yes. Did that stop me from mistaking people as pregnant or gay in the future? No, it did not. What I can say is I haven’t done either in years. Progress. There was a point where I was congratulating people left and right on their upcoming births, who weren’t at all expecting and the silence that ensued was incredibly awkward…I can’t.
Listening to The Rolling Stones to heal has always been my go to, made easier with the release of the IPod. Sara doesn’t listen to them like that, so I had to retrace my steps to figure out where everything went awry. Untethered after he died, I remembered walking through The Gates in Central Park, touching them to feel grounded. That exhibit came out in 2005, New Slang by The Shins was on repeat, because Garden State is one of my favorite movies. Screaming into the chasm is what I desired most. At that point I had an IPod mini, pink (my favorite color). Those weren’t released until February 2004 though, my twin died in September of that year. That’s when I remembered. I had a white iPod first! When the commercials for the mini came out, my sister and I wanted them soooo bad, because they were in color. My stepdad pretended we weren’t ever going to get them, we already had.
“If those were out, I never woulda got this one. It’s plain! This isn’t fair!”
Eureka! Suddenly it all came back to me, before Spotify I had an addiction to LimeWire, Kazaa in second place. Never Napster after seeing how Metallica’s Lars Ulrich was prosecuting people. I’m not finna go to jail, but I need music like oxygen. Fuck it.
We were at Carl Shultz park, there was a group of us mourning, but I just wanted to be alone for a little while. Sara and I separated from the group, we were the closest to him and without her there’d be no me and Lewis. We went to Peter Pan, where we spent so much time with him, drinking vodka and sobbing. Remembering him. She was like the sister he never had. Sara had an earbud, I had an earbud, I played the Stones and during Angie I had a complete breakdown. Weeping, telling her I don’t know what I’m gonna do without him, he’s my entire world and I can’t stay here without Lewis. She sobbed with me and said, I know I’m so sorry. This was when I made the decision to die. Life without him being too unbearable.
His energy, sitting in a place he spent so much time with us. The drinking, the intention to remember him while numbing the pain, listening to Mick Jagger’s enchanted music. When we rejoined everyone our reality didn’t match theirs, unbeknownst to us (read The Art Of Fascination).
I devoured the bands compilation of songs, no issue, straying me further and further from reality. Warping and distorting my memories, my twin. Bereaved. Giving the Devil incarnate full spiritual control, to make me look crazy, crazy! Spiraling into substance abuse, always in tumultuous life predicaments, including financial difficulties (read The Illuminati Is Real). All the while I’m looking for my Lewis, thinking he never made a move, he abandoned me, it was unrequited, he came into my friend’s dream looking for me and not mine…whatever Mick Jagger wanted me to think.
Energy is everything, he severed ours. Although my mind was gone, my heart and soul knew. I never stopped searching, looking up at his window, taking photos of his tag, emailing my attorney about him. Once I reconnected to his energy, merging us again with clarity, all these repressed, all together manipulated memories came back. People being disrespectful, Alex Giel screaming at me that I was his last girlfriend, warring with another couple, basic bitches (especially innately racist entitled Karen’s) wishing on a star (he didn’t like you, rape culture losers, I bag and reject ballers, you bitches could NEVER), the ominous things he said in that bedroom. Only Sara Tam could give me the confirmation I sought.
Mick Jagger fought tooth and nail to keep me away from Sara, made odd by him practically forcing me to remain friends with an evil person. Peculiar. I text her. As expected, she remembers nothing. Barely anything about him. She was such a crucial part of our relationship, he altered her reality too, because she’d have been the first to notice something was off about my behavior. Genius.
Screenshot January 5th 2025. Fucking genius. Sara and I being the closest to him and popular at our high school never mention him, people follow suit. This is actually so fucked up. Wherever I was, she’s still there.
Lewis loved his family, he loved me. He defended his friends. No one ever has or ever will love me more, has ever treated me better. I never have and never will kiss anyone else post them vomiting. As per our three hour aim conversation in middle school, one he referenced once we started dating, the only time he didn’t have “that feeling” is when he was with me. He’d absolutely never do anything to hurt me. “Don’t worry, I’ll go first. I’ll never let anything bad happen to you.” He repeated, amongst other things. Gaining all my memories back, I said Mick Jagger is an idiot, he should’ve killed me first. That’s exactly what he planned on doing. Lewis sacrificed himself for me to live. Horus.
I was suppose to die Monday, 9/27, hit by a bus, 4pm afterschool. Lewis is the leader and we’d pick each other over humanity. This was the only way. If I went first he’d follow, but Lewis went first to stop me from doing so, saving all of you in turn. Lewis had a premonition, speaking in riddles, knowing one day I’d understand. He had to ensure his death, because mine was imminent.
Lewis did drugs to stop his soul from burning, once we had physical union, it did. 46 years our senior, Mick Jagger had a prophecy in 1988 and has been out to get us ever since, an upcoming article. Explaining the…look…he gave me at Miss Lily’s, one down one to go (read Revelation 8: The 27 Club).
Circling back to the IPod. Gone were the days of carrying around select compact discs and players, music became more accessible than ever, increasing Mick Jagger’s fascination over the world. Bringing me to Steve Jobs, a cancer victim, the only tech billionaire I adore. He introduced this world changing device, revolutionizing the music industry, costing musicians multi-millions in earnings yearly. In one fell swoop we went from purchasing the Forty Licks cd, to uploading free downloads on a 1000 song portable gadget. Signifying streaming is here to stay, to the detriment of Satan, who doesn’t play about his coin. Steve Jobs is just another cancer victim courtesy of Michael (read Revelation 1: Mick Jagger Is Satan).
I’d be lying if I told you I don’t miss the music, that listening to ‘Angie’ wasn’t my initial response while discussing it. A mistake I made post watching that Anita Pallenberg documentary. After finding out which songs Keith Richards wrote for her, I listened to them on Spotify. Allowing Mick Jagger to mess up my eye on election night. He’ll never be my Lewis, we’re inseparable. I belong to and with a Jew, you could never. I won’t let you distort him. Via: The Guardian & Jaquana Cornelius
Updated: 1/14/2025 7:02am
