Status: Comment or not, I don't care.
Kurt Cobain.
1/1
Dear Kurt Cobain,
I didn't really listen to your music or know who you were when you died. Or when you were alive, for that matter. I've watched shows about you on TV before, how does that make you feel? It makes me smile. I bet you don't even know I'm writing this right now. Because you're dead. Yes, you're dead. At the age of twenty-freaking-seven years old.
I guess I'm not getting to the point of my online letter, am I? I wanted to know how you kept in for so long? Why'd you do drugs, instead of speaking out to people, so they wouldn't make the same mistake? It just kills me to see someone as talented as you, and someone with such a lovely personality and life, go to waste. Courtney was probably a great wife, a bit crazy, but y'know. From what I hear, you had a daughter, too.
I've wrote this like five times, thinking 'oh, he wouldn't like it if I said that.' It makes me somewhat giggly to think that you could read this. How could you deal with all that fame? People can just eat people up and spit them out in a snap. You'd probably know what I meant. If not you, Courtney.
What were you like off-stage? Did you have a personality at all? I'm sort of putting your personality together and stuff, and I figured you'd be a bit depressing. Then again, I don't even want to judge. I get all of this stuff from TV, for God's sake.
If it was possible for dead people to talk to people living on earth through their dreams, I'd go crazy. I have so many things I wish you could give me advise on. I'm going crazy, I'm not even kidding. I'm growing to hate every human being on this earth. Not because a little fight with my friends or anything. Nothing like that. We're so stupid. We think we're so smart, but we're not. Not compared to everything else out there. And we're such selfish little devils. I just don't know what to do about it anymore.
There's nothing wrong with me, but sometimes I feel like breaking down in a little corner and crying my little blue eyes out. Nothing has even happened to me worthy enough to bawl about. I just want help. I felt like you were possibly the only person I'd like to talk to. Even though you're dead, I feel as though you're still alive. With your fans, your family and loved ones, your music. I feel like you can talk to me through my dreams.
Stop laughing at me because of how stupid I sound. It's not funny! I just want somebody to talk to. I'm honestly not going to sleep tonight, considering it's exactly 4:50 am and I haven't slept at all. I'm seeing things. Seriously. I'm also hearing things, yet I can't hear things when people are talking to me. I'm going insane...that was a joke. I'm not seriously going insane.
Well, I'm glad you read this. You really probably didn't, but I choose to believe you did. I also mention that I'm smiling right now. Please, if you read this, speak out to me. It'd mean the world to me. It wouldn't make my day, it'd make my life. And most likely change me, differing on what you tell me...exactly.
I wish you luck in where ever you're residing in. Whether it be Heaven, or Hell, or some other place us humans don't bother to think of.
Sincerely,
Kayla Nichole Ewoldt.
I didn't really listen to your music or know who you were when you died. Or when you were alive, for that matter. I've watched shows about you on TV before, how does that make you feel? It makes me smile. I bet you don't even know I'm writing this right now. Because you're dead. Yes, you're dead. At the age of twenty-freaking-seven years old.
I guess I'm not getting to the point of my online letter, am I? I wanted to know how you kept in for so long? Why'd you do drugs, instead of speaking out to people, so they wouldn't make the same mistake? It just kills me to see someone as talented as you, and someone with such a lovely personality and life, go to waste. Courtney was probably a great wife, a bit crazy, but y'know. From what I hear, you had a daughter, too.
I've wrote this like five times, thinking 'oh, he wouldn't like it if I said that.' It makes me somewhat giggly to think that you could read this. How could you deal with all that fame? People can just eat people up and spit them out in a snap. You'd probably know what I meant. If not you, Courtney.
What were you like off-stage? Did you have a personality at all? I'm sort of putting your personality together and stuff, and I figured you'd be a bit depressing. Then again, I don't even want to judge. I get all of this stuff from TV, for God's sake.
If it was possible for dead people to talk to people living on earth through their dreams, I'd go crazy. I have so many things I wish you could give me advise on. I'm going crazy, I'm not even kidding. I'm growing to hate every human being on this earth. Not because a little fight with my friends or anything. Nothing like that. We're so stupid. We think we're so smart, but we're not. Not compared to everything else out there. And we're such selfish little devils. I just don't know what to do about it anymore.
There's nothing wrong with me, but sometimes I feel like breaking down in a little corner and crying my little blue eyes out. Nothing has even happened to me worthy enough to bawl about. I just want help. I felt like you were possibly the only person I'd like to talk to. Even though you're dead, I feel as though you're still alive. With your fans, your family and loved ones, your music. I feel like you can talk to me through my dreams.
Stop laughing at me because of how stupid I sound. It's not funny! I just want somebody to talk to. I'm honestly not going to sleep tonight, considering it's exactly 4:50 am and I haven't slept at all. I'm seeing things. Seriously. I'm also hearing things, yet I can't hear things when people are talking to me. I'm going insane...that was a joke. I'm not seriously going insane.
Well, I'm glad you read this. You really probably didn't, but I choose to believe you did. I also mention that I'm smiling right now. Please, if you read this, speak out to me. It'd mean the world to me. It wouldn't make my day, it'd make my life. And most likely change me, differing on what you tell me...exactly.
I wish you luck in where ever you're residing in. Whether it be Heaven, or Hell, or some other place us humans don't bother to think of.
Sincerely,
Kayla Nichole Ewoldt.