Smells Like Teen Spirit Baby
Don't Try Suicide
I staggered through the halls towards Kurt’s room. My feet were like cinderblocks, each step making my brain beg me to stay put.
It’s not that I harbored any prejudices or unfair stereotypes about attempted suicide victims, quite the opposite in fact; I had always felt extreme compassion and empathy for them. Imagine what kind of turmoil one must have had to go through to end up like that.
I staggered through the halls towards Kurt’s room. My feet were like cinderblocks, each step making my brain beg me to stay put.
It’s not that I harbored any prejudices or unfair stereotypes about attempted suicide victims, quite the opposite in fact; I had always felt extreme compassion and empathy for them. Imagine what kind of turmoil one must have had to go through to end up like that.
You know why, you know why…
Denial and then a shake of the head to clear my thoughts. Reassuring myself that it was just a lack of sleep and perhaps excitement (it was Kurt-fucking-Cobain after all), I struck a match of confidence within myself and strode into his room.
*************************
Five hours. Five whole hours of sitting and watching a rock star sleep. Perhaps the younger, more crazed fans would have loved it, but I was about to die of boredom. Nirvana may have been the apex of fame at the time, but nothing, NOTHING mind-numbingly tedious than having to look after someone while they sleep.
I sipped the cold dregs out of the bottom of the coffee Elle had so kindly brought me earlier. She was an absolute sweetheart, and as she walked in I could tell she and one of the big, muscle-y paramedics had been making out in the supply closet.
“How’s he doin’?” she had whispered as she seated herself next to me. I guzzled enthusiastically from the cup before answering.
“Just fine, I guess. He’s been sleeping for hours.” I replied. She nodded understandingly.
“Suicide Watch can be draining. I can’t believe Mala made you do this.” she said.
I rolled my eyes.
“I can believe it. He just….ugh.” I said with a sigh.
Elle smiled at me sympathetically. We chatted for a few more moments before she had to dash of for her next shift.
That was an hour ago. I was about to fall asleep myself, when Kurt finally woke up.
“This sure doesn’t look like Hell.” he said unenthusiastically.
Denial and then a shake of the head to clear my thoughts. Reassuring myself that it was just a lack of sleep and perhaps excitement (it was Kurt-fucking-Cobain after all), I struck a match of confidence within myself and strode into his room.
*************************
Five hours. Five whole hours of sitting and watching a rock star sleep. Perhaps the younger, more crazed fans would have loved it, but I was about to die of boredom. Nirvana may have been the apex of fame at the time, but nothing, NOTHING mind-numbingly tedious than having to look after someone while they sleep.
I sipped the cold dregs out of the bottom of the coffee Elle had so kindly brought me earlier. She was an absolute sweetheart, and as she walked in I could tell she and one of the big, muscle-y paramedics had been making out in the supply closet.
“How’s he doin’?” she had whispered as she seated herself next to me. I guzzled enthusiastically from the cup before answering.
“Just fine, I guess. He’s been sleeping for hours.” I replied. She nodded understandingly.
“Suicide Watch can be draining. I can’t believe Mala made you do this.” she said.
I rolled my eyes.
“I can believe it. He just….ugh.” I said with a sigh.
Elle smiled at me sympathetically. We chatted for a few more moments before she had to dash of for her next shift.
That was an hour ago. I was about to fall asleep myself, when Kurt finally woke up.
“This sure doesn’t look like Hell.” he said unenthusiastically.
It’s not that I harbored any prejudices or unfair stereotypes about attempted suicide victims, quite the opposite in fact; I had always felt extreme compassion and empathy for them. Imagine what kind of turmoil one must have had to go through to end up like that.
I staggered through the halls towards Kurt’s room. My feet were like cinderblocks, each step making my brain beg me to stay put.
It’s not that I harbored any prejudices or unfair stereotypes about attempted suicide victims, quite the opposite in fact; I had always felt extreme compassion and empathy for them. Imagine what kind of turmoil one must have had to go through to end up like that.
You know why, you know why…
Denial and then a shake of the head to clear my thoughts. Reassuring myself that it was just a lack of sleep and perhaps excitement (it was Kurt-fucking-Cobain after all), I struck a match of confidence within myself and strode into his room.
*************************
Five hours. Five whole hours of sitting and watching a rock star sleep. Perhaps the younger, more crazed fans would have loved it, but I was about to die of boredom. Nirvana may have been the apex of fame at the time, but nothing, NOTHING mind-numbingly tedious than having to look after someone while they sleep.
I sipped the cold dregs out of the bottom of the coffee Elle had so kindly brought me earlier. She was an absolute sweetheart, and as she walked in I could tell she and one of the big, muscle-y paramedics had been making out in the supply closet.
“How’s he doin’?” she had whispered as she seated herself next to me. I guzzled enthusiastically from the cup before answering.
“Just fine, I guess. He’s been sleeping for hours.” I replied. She nodded understandingly.
“Suicide Watch can be draining. I can’t believe Mala made you do this.” she said.
I rolled my eyes.
“I can believe it. He just….ugh.” I said with a sigh.
Elle smiled at me sympathetically. We chatted for a few more moments before she had to dash of for her next shift.
That was an hour ago. I was about to fall asleep myself, when Kurt finally woke up.
“This sure doesn’t look like Hell.” he said unenthusiastically.
Denial and then a shake of the head to clear my thoughts. Reassuring myself that it was just a lack of sleep and perhaps excitement (it was Kurt-fucking-Cobain after all), I struck a match of confidence within myself and strode into his room.
*************************
Five hours. Five whole hours of sitting and watching a rock star sleep. Perhaps the younger, more crazed fans would have loved it, but I was about to die of boredom. Nirvana may have been the apex of fame at the time, but nothing, NOTHING mind-numbingly tedious than having to look after someone while they sleep.
I sipped the cold dregs out of the bottom of the coffee Elle had so kindly brought me earlier. She was an absolute sweetheart, and as she walked in I could tell she and one of the big, muscle-y paramedics had been making out in the supply closet.
“How’s he doin’?” she had whispered as she seated herself next to me. I guzzled enthusiastically from the cup before answering.
“Just fine, I guess. He’s been sleeping for hours.” I replied. She nodded understandingly.
“Suicide Watch can be draining. I can’t believe Mala made you do this.” she said.
I rolled my eyes.
“I can believe it. He just….ugh.” I said with a sigh.
Elle smiled at me sympathetically. We chatted for a few more moments before she had to dash of for her next shift.
That was an hour ago. I was about to fall asleep myself, when Kurt finally woke up.
“This sure doesn’t look like Hell.” he said unenthusiastically.