Chapter Text
My brother.
I see the storm in you now. It has hardened behind your eyes, a constant, low pressure. You hold the guitar not as an instrument, but as a tool for demolition. I understand. I would expect nothing less.
You must remember the before. The static of the old radio, the simple weight of a day with no stakes. That is the core of you, beneath the anger. That is the you I fought for.
Do not let them convince you that your grief is a weakness they can exploit. It is your engine. Your fuel. But you must be its master, not its servant. Rage is a fire that can warm a house or burn it to the ground. You must decide.
I hear the new shape of your music. It is all sharp edges and shattered glass. It is beautiful, and it breaks my heart. You are building a monument to me out of noise and fury. But I do not need a monument. I need you to be a foundation. For something new. For what comes after.
When you look into the cameras, past the glare, and you see the faces of our judges, know this: I am there in your line of sight. When you strike a chord that makes the very air vibrate with rebellion, I am in the resonance.