I have a bone to pick with you, J. Cole.
Two years ago, you did a college tour-type thing and performed at two venues relatively close to me. To one concert I was available to go and had friends to go with, but then alas the plan fell through. Then, inexplicably, one of those friends ended up going anyway (though not entirely her fault, sometimes still like to tease her about betrayal). Whatevs, I thought back then.
Last year, you did the Dollar and a Dream tour and came back to Chicago in June. My friend and her brother were able to secure spots in line at your secret venue, House of Blues, but because I was not physically with them at the time (having been stuck in Lincoln Park) I was unable to secure own wristband for entry. It was a traumatic day for me, to say the least (although entirety of trauma not your fault, was just mere cherry on top).
This year, I was determined to see you in concert more than ever. You were slated to come to Chicago on this day, July 21, and I even took the day off from work. But alas, the friend with whom I was to go to your Dollar and a Dream II concert with became quite ill and when spoke to her on phone this morning, she sounded rough. So again, I had to resign to the fact that I would yet again miss one of your performances.
Why, Jermaine, is fate torturing me in this manner? Am I never meant to see you perform in person, like, ever?