The Grimiest thing Jay Z has ever done.
She had to die so that Beyoncé could become the next Supreme
Finally someone else knows her death wasn’t a “accident”
Be cool she wasn’t even the hottest artist out when she died. Beyonce was already breaking records and winning awards. whle Aaliyah was alive, chill wit that
At 15 years old Aaliyah’s Age Ain’t Nothing but a number sold a million copies and eventually earned platinum status. Her sophomore album, One in a Million sold more than two million copies. In 1997 she recorded “Journey to the Past,” the Academy Award-nominated theme song to the animated feature Anastasia. She also performed the song in 1998 making her the youngest female artist to perform at the Oscars. Her next soundtrack “Are You That Somebody?” for 1998’s Dr. Dolittle, starring Eddie Murphy, went to No. 1 on the R&B charts and was a pop crossover hit which earned Aaliyah her first Grammy Award nomination. In 2000, Aaliyah made her acting debut in Romeo Must Die. She was also an executive producer of the movie’s soundtrack and performed the hit single “Try Again,” which got her a second Grammy nomination as well as two MTV Music Video Awards for Best Female Video and Best Video From a Film. Her third album, Aaliyah, was released in July 2001 and reached No. 2 on the Billboard album chart. Also in 2001, she played the title role in Queen of the Damned, based on the bestselling novel by Anne Rice and set for release in 2002. She was also set to play in the sequel of The Matrix and Honey but due to her death the role was given to Jessica Alba. So please tell me Aaliyah wasn’t the hottest Artist of her time. Beyonce was just the lead vocalist of a girl group at the time who had a couple of hits.
Ok now I’m bout to shit on you with some Destiny’s Child and Beyonce stats right quick.
Destiny’s Child has sold more than 60 million records worldwide to date. Billboard magazine ranks the group as one of the greatest musical trios of all time, the ninth most successful artist/band of the 2000s and placed the group 68th in its All-Time Hot 100 Artists list in 2008 (Aaliyah is not on that list btw)
When Beyonce co-starred in Austin Power’s Goldmember it became the highest grossing Comedy of at that time.
Destiny’s Child has a total of 4 Billboard #1 songs, while Aaliyah was alive.
And no Aaliyah was still nowhere near the hottest artist while she was alive, because Whitney Houston, Janet Jackson, Mariah Carey, Brandy, Toni Braxton, and Mary J. Blidge where SHITTING on Aaliyah when she was alive. Brandy’s debut album sold 16 Million copies worldwide (more than every Aaliyah album combined). Brandy had her own TV and her own Barbie doll and she was fuck Cinderella. Aaliyah wasn’t even more popular than Brandy was.
Lets not play this game please
It’s nobody going to talk about how Jay z has always creeped on young ass girls?
is nobody going to talk about how someone just spent time researching numbers to argue about someone who’s dead.
i mean i appreciate the objectivity but dude this is the problem with society when you’re less concerned about celebrating an artist who passed away at a young age and more concerned about writing scathing criticism.
a piece of a larger novella in progress.
The brilliant green faded when the door opened. Io and Holly stepped through at the same time. As the hinges squeaked their final turn, she was confused. The room was dark, save for its center. Illuminated by cold spotlights several feet high was a…
real as fuck.
This an ode.
Girl #1: You’ve always been here. You are the weakest of them. You are impulsive, paranoid, and are unable to shake the negativity that has prevailed your entire life. In the moments where my empathy buckles, I feel you have failed me. But I am a fort now. I am…
an effort to feel defined.
When I give a working man his change back at CVS, my hand sometimes brushes across his. I feel weak. His hands. They’re so calloused. So worn by time, experience, stress, and glory. Some side of me is just like “Dude, your hands are…they’re nothing like that.” And I…
a piece of a larger novella in progress.
The brilliant green faded when the door opened. Io and Holly stepped through at the same time. As the hinges squeaked their final turn, she was confused. The room was dark, save for its center. Illuminated by cold spotlights several feet high was a disturbing, tree-like console. Mostly a metallic black, the bottom was shaped to resemble 6 thick roots, a trait shared by the top of the console as well. The roots pulsated with a strange sound Holly could only compare to heartbeats. The bottom appeared to squirm inward, as if absorbing. The top seemed to export, and possibly extend to the outside of the room. But the length was indiscernible in the darkness.
In the center of the grotesque display were monitors, directly in between the upper and lower sides of each root. Though she couldn’t see the three behind it, the green light failing floating gave it away.
But it was the sihlouette of a person, traced by the spotlight glare, that Holly was fixated on. Standing a couple yards in front of the console, Holly could tell the figure’s body turned to her the moment she arrived.
Holly and Io, standing side by side once again, looked at one another. Half of their faces were basking in the red from the corridor, the other eclipsed by the room. She could read, despite the mask, that his composure was compromised. He’s standing like he’s being told to, she thought.
"What’s wrong?" Holly and Io asked each other simultaneously.
"What are you doing?" Holly asked on a whim. Io spoke right alongside her, saying the exact words at the precise moment she did. She gave him space to respond on his own. Nothing.
Out of her peripheral, Holly noticed the figure began a delicate walk toward them. It paused abruptly. The hinges squealed once more, and the red glow of the corridor along the ground folded into darkness. The room was now pitch black. The sihlouette resumed and paced calmly as it slowly eclipsed the monitors behind it.
Something’s missing, thought Holly. She tapped the floor with her right heel twice. There was no sound.
It was then that she felt the figure’s presence in front of her. Her thumbs twitched as she felt the brush of a hand across her right arm. Adrenaline raced into Holly’s face when the hand gently rested on the side of it. She froze. The moment felt deeply, eternally, silent. Not only did she feel the loving touch of fingers on her face, she heard the affectionate graze of a thumb as it ran across her cheek. Holly felt as though a warm hug embraced her previously icy chest. Her eyes leaking what was left of her fearful heart. She tilted her head onto the hand before caressing it with her own. She squeezed it softly; reluctant for it to stop, but feeling that it needed to.
"Please," she said, in gentle persuasion. "Please turn on the light." Io could be heard quietly imitating Holly once more.
"Are you sure?" it said.
Holly let out a soft whimper through her open mouth.
It’s a woman. Older.
"Yeah," they replied. Holly’s voice was burdened by emotion.
The figure turned to the monitors in a slight breeze. The spotlight cascaded onto her back as the woman stepped up to the console. Holly noted she wore a white lab coat with black slacks. Her hair, at least from the back, appeared to be the very same style as Holly’s. In that instant, a blinding flood of white pierced Holly’s sensitive eyes. The room was spacious and spherical. The console was in the very center, standing 30 feet from either side of the room, and indeed the roots from above exited the room into the corridor. The walls were a crisp white-blue porcelain, giving Holly the same clinical feel as the hallways in the hospital earlier. But the clearest detail for her, when her eyes could tolerate the light, was the floor. They were hard charcoal-colored tiles, lined by black molding.
"Holly…" said the woman.
Holly looked up slowly from the ground, tears still warm near the lips. Her eyes climbed the woman, first from the black heels she wore and to the slacks once again. She knew, from there, what to expect. But she did not want to look further.
Io and Holly looked at each other instantly, and spoke once again.
"It looks like I’m standing in front of us."
Holly and Io looked at the woman and tilted their heads a bit to the left. The woman’s face was cloaked by a surgical mask and glasses, but the skin, body, clothes, and hair resembled Holly’s. The two shook their heads a bit.
"Get out," they exclaimed.
The woman’s eyes perked up as her forehead scrunched in response. The wrinkles revealed her age. It could not have been Holly.
"Holly," said the woman, "I will leave you alone. But you know what today is," she said cautiously.
"Yeah, I do" replied the duo. "It’s okay."
The woman crossed her arms in concern. “I don’t want you to be late for him.”
"I won’t be. I promise."
Holly walked cautiously while Io followed in stride. The woman walked to them as well. The two stopped at each other’s sides, as the woman placed her hand on Holly’s right arm. Holly could see through the woman’s glasses that she was staring at Io. Holly faced him, but he faced to his left as well. The woman kissed Holly on her cheek while she wasn’t looking. A bit blushed, Holly was frozen for a second as the woman neared the door.
Holly remembered the quiet promise she made to those in the waiting room. The two turned and hung their left arms out, fingers splayed in the air. “Wait,” they cried. “Take care of them while I’m here.”
The woman cupped her hands around her heart with her back to them.”Of course, sweetheart,” she replied. She exited, closing the vault door behind her.
In sync, the duo walked to the small monitor facing them. The symbol from the ballroom in the previous scene was static against the green background of the monitor. The symbol cleared.
Do you miss me? the monitor read in a black, bold Calibri font. The cursor blinked expectantly as Holly found herself at a loss for words.
real as fuck.
This an ode.
Girl #1: You’ve always been here. You are the weakest of them. You are impulsive, paranoid, and are unable to shake the negativity that has prevailed your entire life. In the moments where my empathy buckles, I feel you have failed me. But I am a fort now. I am unbreakable. At this moment, I know it was I that failed you. I need to lose you. briefly. So when I return, I can shoulder all of who you are. And my shoulders will not falter like the men before me.
Girl #2: You loved me. At a time when my brain was an intangible knot of instincts, you found something to latch onto. You called me your rock when I thought myself gravel. I was gravel, at the time. I was right. You were wrong. But you were not wrong to leave me. You were not wrong to do what you did afterward. It pained me but that’s bullshit ‘cause to pretend pain is something to regret is the logic of someone easily shaken.
I was gravel. You thought I was a rock. I am now a fucking foundation.
Girl #3: We called each other. Children of a generation that communicated through blinking cursors and abbreviated words, we called each other, and spoke for hours in conversations neither of us will ever forget. We never kissed. We never had sex. We didn’t have to. ‘Cause there you stood, penetrated by the emotions, spread open by our friendship; you said “I’ll miss you” for the first time in your life and when I reciprocated, you were crying.
I told you that I fear you may suffer the worst of our fallout. Your mental stability was threatened, I thought. I did not know then how much I needed you.
I do now.
Girl #4: I am so sorry. I’m in an era where I understands itself. I express myself unapologetically. I know what I desires now. And today, you remain my largest mistake; you do not talk to me. After a brief tryst that seemed wonderful at the time, you have not talked to me for 2 years. I deceived you. You wouldn’t agree with that statement in person, I think. But I objectified you. I lied about loving you. I liked you. I did respect you. And I did things for you no one else would at that time. But I know what I did was wrong. And the ramifications are echoed in your silence; a silence far louder than any “fuck you” I’ve ever heard.
I do not apologize to anyone anymore. But you. I’m sorry. You deserved better, and I hope you got that.
Girl #5: Oh you. You are the one who got away. When we kissed, I told you how long I’d been waiting for that moment. I suspect you were put off by the sexual eagerness. No; it was that I knew you were a person I was supposed to connect to. You were 5’2”, one-hundred pounds. And you were one of the strongest girls I’ve ever met. I could not wait to kiss you, because every moment we shared before that was like finding pieces of a jigsaw puzzle beneath hoarded nostalgia. I wanted to see if your kiss would complete me and it did. I lost you to my own error, and to the shifting geology of adolescence.
It’s been some time since I saw you. And in that time, only a word has sufficed for these feelings:
Girl #6: I am not sure why it took me 2 years and 9 months for it to cement itself. I surround myself with strong women. I am both inspired by and attracted to them so you’d figure I should’ve known a little sooner that you are the strongest. When I was gravel, you were there to tolerate my lack of discipline. When I was rock, you understood the crevices as I changed. You have stayed where the others have left. My life has been a most awkward collision of emotions, reactions, and misconceptions and you were bruised by all of it. And you fucking stayed. Like no one else did, you fucking stayed here for it. I —
I love you.
Girl #7: You are new. The girls in this piece have been around for at least a year so you are new. But your inclusion in this list was merited when I tried to define you and I failed. I tried to place you into a girl-shaped hole that would explain all of your psychology. Because that is what I have always done. When I learned that I was wrong, that my comparisons, proclivities, references, and calculations were just arrogant bullshit, and that frankly you surpass any standard a man can place on you, was when you made this list…
…Girl #…1? What. What are you doing here. You’re number one, hello, you’re not supposed to be at the end of this list or even on this list. But then, you are #1 for a reason. Because 2-7 would not exist without you. Because I would not exist without you —
I am sorry I am not strong enough to tolerate you, mom. But I will try to be. Fuck everyone else on this list. I owe it to you first and fucking foremost. I am sorry I am not strong enough for you. But you best believe I will be. Because you are number fucking one.