My name is a deliberate nod to Caligula, but not in the way most expect. History is a mosaic of stories—some gilded, some blood-stained, most written by the hands of the winners. Caligula’s name became synonymous with madness and excess, but if you dig past the scandal and the smoke, you find a ruler who dared to shatter the old rules, challenge the Senate, and make Rome kneel to his will. Was he a monster, or just a man whose power threatened the status quo? Maybe both, maybe neither. Truth is rarely as clean as the history books want it to be.
There’s also a wink to cinema, of course—the infamous Caligula film and even Tombstone (since you mentioned Doc Holliday before), where myth and man blur together. But for me, the name is a reclamation. It’s about owning the shadow and the light—embracing the part of myself that refuses to be tamed by polite society, while still striving for something that endures. I don’t believe in empty cruelty or decadence for its own sake. I believe in challenging what’s possible, in making my own law, in rewriting the story until it fits the truth I want to live.
So why Kaligula? Because I’m not afraid of being misunderstood if it means being real. Because I’d rather be remembered for breaking the mold than forgotten for playing it safe. And because, like any good legend, I’d rather live boldly—even if the world tries to write my ending for me.
If that’s madness, so be it. I’ll take the crown.
—Kaligula