I’m too much of an erratic, moody baby! I don’t have the passion anymore, and so remember, it’s better to burn out than to fade away.įrances and Courtney, I’ll be at your alter.įor her life, which will be so much happier without me.Ĭobain had addressed the note to his childhood imaginary friend Boddah. Thank you all from the pit of my burning, nauseous stomach for your letters and concern during the past years. Only because I love and feel sorry for people too much I guess. Only because it seems so easy for people to get along that have empathy. I have it good, very good, and I’m grateful, but since the age of seven, I’ve become hateful towards all humans in general. I can’t stand the thought of Frances becoming the miserable, self-destructive, death rocker that I’ve become. And that terrifies me to the point to where I can barely function.
#DEATH NOTE C LETTER FULL#
I have a goddess of a wife who sweats ambition and empathy and a daughter who reminds me too much of what I used to be, full of love and joy, kissing every person she meets because everyone is good and will do her no harm. Why don’t you just enjoy it? I don’t know! The sad little, sensitive, unappreciative, Pisces, Jesus man. There’s good in all of us and I think I simply love people too much, so much that it makes me feel too fucking sad. On our last 3 tours, I’ve had a much better appreciation for all the people I’ve known personally, and as fans of our music, but I still can’t get over the frustration, the guilt and empathy I have for everyone. I need to be slightly numb in order to regain the enthusiasms I once had as a child. It must be one of those narcissists who only appreciate things when they’re gone.
I appreciate the fact that I and we have affected and entertained a lot of people. I’ve tried everything within my power to appreciate it (and I do, God, believe me, I do, but it’s not enough). Sometimes I feel as if I should have a punch-in time clock before I walk out on stage. The worst crime I can think of would be to rip people off by faking it and pretending as if I’m having 100% fun. The fact is, I can’t fool you, any one of you. I feel guilty beyond words about these things.įor example, when we’re back stage and the lights go out and the manic roar of the crowds begins, it doesn’t affect me the way in which it did for Freddie Mercury, who seemed to love, relish in the love and adoration from the crowd which is something I totally admire and envy. I haven’t felt the excitement of listening to as well as creating music along with reading and writing for too many years now. This note should be pretty easy to understand.Īll the warnings from the punk rock 101 courses over the years, since my first introduction to the, shall we say, ethics involved with independence and the embracement of your community has proven to be very true. Speaking from the tongue of an experienced simpleton who obviously would rather be an emasculated, infantile complain-ee. It’s uncertain what exactly happened between April 4 and April 5 except that Kurt Cobain likely propped a stool up against the greenhouse’s French doors and stayed inside, doing drugs, possibly writing or finishing the infamous note, and finally, shot himself. Though his home was searched, nobody thought to look inside his garage or the greenhouse above it.
Love hired private investigator Tom Grant to find her husband, while Cobain’s mother Wendy O’Connor issued a missing person’s report. He scaled the six-foot brick wall and flew back home to Seattle before his wife could cancel his credit cards. Public Domain The note was addressed to Cobain’s childhood imaginary friend, Boddah.Īfter a couple of days in a California rehab center, Kurt told the staff he was stepping outside for a smoke.
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