We Need To Talk About Kanye

Okay, considering all the press he’s been getting this week alone, we really don’t NEED to. But we should.

So we are.

For the clueless, the rapper most of us hate to love has been on some serious shenanigans as of late while on tour, from announcing he didn’t vote but if he did…it would have been for Trump to storming offstage to rambling frustrations at Jay-Z and Beyonce’ for not calling him enough, winning VMAs without him and not bringing Blue Ivy to play over at the Kardashian household.


Girlfriend, please.

Kanye is like that unpredictable cousin that talks too much that’s super talented and you want to see do well in life, because you know he can. As the list of Hashtag Too Much continued to grow, the charades came to a screeching halt this week as after cancelling the remainder of his tour, and Kanye West was hospitalized for a “psychiatric emergency“.

Anyone following West’s career from the beginning knows it’s been an interesting one. From his breakthrough after surviving a damaging car wreck, his thought provoking albums, his marriage, his stage appearances, to of course, the loss of his mother 9 years ago this November. Which honestly, is when the world begin to see a very different version of Kanye West.

Death is complicated. And of course to one never experiencing that on various levels, it’s difficult to truly explain.

Thinking about it on the surface, it’s like Why?. When you die, it’s over. Done. Fineto. However, it’s in afterlife when the ones surrounding are left living to deal. You don’t realize the impact you left on someone until you are gone.
And we all deal differently. Some cry, some don’t. Some stay busy and get their best work done, some don’t do anything for some time. Some obsess over it. Some don’t deal with it at all for time to follow. Some do all of the above.
We pretend we are 100% okay because it’s the “normal” thing to do, not wanting to seem depressed or a Donald Downer in front of everyone all time. It’s been three years already, I shouldn’t be talking about this anymore. They’re not coming back so I need to get over it.

But you never do. You just live, the best you know how–and hope somewhere, that one you miss is watching and is proud.

And in the struggle for sanity, something triggers the floodgates. It could be another loss or the threat of losing another someone or something; or something as simple as having a drink or absolutely nothing at all. You just snap. You become self-destructive, lash out at the closest people in vicinity, and basically just act your fucking worst. You become labeled as “crazy”, because from an outsider’s perspective that’s what you are. You’re not the cherished grandchild, offspring, friend, lover of the one you lost that’s hurting and feeling completely clueless in an unfair world that’s forced to live without them–you’re “crazy”.
To the outsider, they don’t understand. To move on your own for the first time and to unpack alone in tears because you know if that person was still around, they’d be there in full force–more excited than you and bustling about telling you where the family photos would look best. To fall in love, and wanting to get their opinion about them, because you know they will. To get exciting news and wanting to pick up the phone and share all the while holding it away from your face cause their loud shouts of happiness is about to wake up all of the city. To get your heart sincerely broken ten directions from Spain and wanting to see the one you loss’ face one last time so they can look you square in the eyes and remind you who the hell you are and to pick yourself up.
The outsider doesn’t get it. And you almost hope they never do. It’s never an easy road traveled, and one a few never come back from.

The first step never stops being admitting an issue, and addressing it accordingly.

Rest easy, Kanye.

Having lost Prince and Bowie in the same year, we need all the talented artists we can get…and not be left forever with the rest of this mess.


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