The man who didn’t want what he got, Kurt Cobain, is haunting the children and their parents once again. Through the lost song and the junkie widow and her lawsuits, the specter of the blond, left-handed guitarist with the scratchy wail is among us once again.
He did what he did, and that’s it. Call it what you want, but he did what he wanted to do. Give it any name, throw the book of adjectives at the little guy, and it doesn’t matter.
He’s gone because he wanted to be gone, and that’s the way it is.
You still wouldn’t like it here, man. It’s worse now that it was when you left eight years ago. I don’t know what to tell your daughter about the future, and I can only pray that her mom knows what she’s doing. Pray to you, that is, but it’s really none of my business.
As if we haven’t pored over the artifacts and wreckage of your life, the lost song clears up, once and for all, that this life was just too much for you.
I know how you felt. Sometimes I can’t believe I have to live here, too. It just doesn’t seem like the way the world was drawn up.
Or maybe it’s exactly as it was drawn up.
I’m not going to do what you did, but I can relate to why you did it. I’m not saying I understand, but I can relate. And I think I’m not alone.
This is a terrible, terrible place that you left.
I don’t know where you are now, but I know you’re not here. I doubt where you are is much worse than here.
Here, we don’t learn.