person: no day but today

I’ve been to so many Idina Menzel concerts and I think Saturday night in Austin, TX was one of my favorites. This beautiful thing happened and it made me realize why I admire her so much. There were interpreters there for a couple of deaf concert goers. She invited one of them on stage to teach her how to sign “No day but today.” What made it even more special is the guy she invited up had a tattoo with that exact saying on his wrist. Definitely brought tears and a smile to my face ❤️

there is no future; there is no past

by @goldenheartprincess

mimi marquez lives each moment as her last

mimi marquez doesn’t live

mimi marquez doesn’t exist

january twenty-sixth, nineteen ninety-six

the stage is dim

the chairs are scattered

the energy is broken

this is not what opening night should look like

“we begin on christmas eve”

a young man in new york city, hoping for his big break, begins to speak

his words do not belong to him

they belonged to a man named jonathan larson

belonged.

through the process of writing his musical,

jonathan was found.

through the pale light of his studio apartment,

jonathan was found dead that morning.

stress, they said.

unexpected, they said.

tragic, they said.

incredible, he would have said.

he could not speak.

there were no words in his throat.

this isn’t poetic.

this is pathetic.

he is dead.

living in new york city during the nineties meant that all of your friends were dying.

they were either poor or sick or maybe they were just gay.

jonathan wrote what he knew, and he wrote so much.

he wrote about ex-girlfriends that turned out to be lesbians,

about best friends’ funerals,

and about living each moment as your last.

over twenty years later,

teenagers and those who were once teenagers are asking themselves,

“how do you measure a year in the life?”

“would you light my candle?”

“how we gonna pay last year’s rent?”

jonathan wouldn’t believe it.

that people are finding love from his show,

finding hope,

finding themselves.

twenty years later. he wouldn’t believe it.

he doesn’t have to.

he’s dead.

i consider him lucky.

he put his art on paper.

he wrote about the world around him.

his legacy lived on.

he finished his work.

he won.

i refuse to lose.

i don’t know how to write.

i don’t know how to live each moment as my last.

i don’t know how to live.

but i don’t know how to die.

i don’t know how to die without writing my stories.

i don’t think i could die without writing my stories.

i can’t die without writing my stories.

once they are written, i truly believe that

i can’t die.

my voice needs to be heard today.

there is no future.

there is no past.

there is no day but today.

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