Imagine it’s December 2014. The setting: your third-floor attic bedroom, shared with your stepbrother. You put the world on pause and press play—your favorite artist just dropped an album called 2014 Forest Hills Drive. Headphones blasting. This sounds like what your first time in New York felt like two years prior—a rush of possibility and hope, the desire to achieve your dreams, to become what you saw on the screens. Your dreams are now as tall as the Empire State Building and as wide as the ocean. Your eyes start to water—no fighting it. Man, you’ve never experienced a musical high like this before. Your soul feels more alive than ever. You go back to school daydreaming about becoming somebody in New York City. You know something about yourself that others don’t—you try to express it, but it doesn’t land, so you keep your dreams close to your chest. The last thing you write in your yearbook is:
“If they don’t know your dreams, then they can’t shoot ’em down.” — J. Cole. So the pursuit of artistic excellence and expression begins. (Full caption in the comments)