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A/N: Title is after Nirvana's song Lithium, and also Lithium is a drug for manic depression. So I thought it was quite suiting. I also did a lot to get into the mood of writing this. I read his suicide note about 10 times and kept referring back to him, and I had all Nirvana music on a playlist. Shrunk the Microsoft Word window so I could have a pic of Kurt while I was writing. Probably the extreme of getting in the mood to write it hehe.

But anyway, I believe Kurt Cobain was a legendary singer with undeniable talent. I think the thoughts in his suicide note mirrored a lot of other rockers, but he just had the guts to admit it. Don't get me wrong, I'm not promoting his suicide or anything. I think he was just a guy who thought he had no other option. He was looking for an escape and well, he found it in a way. Too bad he left behind a wife and daughter and millions of people who loved him and will never forget him.

I'd like to thank my brother, who played Nirvana music to me when I was a baby. I think he really started my love for them

R.I.P Kurt Donald Cobain 1967-1994


Darkness fills this empty house.

I am alone, truly alone.

Here I am Kurt Donald Cobain, the sad little, sensitive, unappreciative, Pisces, Jesus man. I’m surrounded by people who love me and yet I stand alone. Alone in this house, this damned Seattle shit heap, filled with shit I don’t want nor need. Courtney and Frances, my dear baby Frances aren’t here with me. I’m alone all alone.

I want to throw up; everything makes me feel sick to my burning nauseous stomach. Even the thoughts I have, the battle raging inside. I care too much, I feel too much.

From the booze and rednecks, to the fame and glory. There was a time I felt passion pumping through my veins as my life source. But it’s died. I’ve tried so hard to be the Kurt Cobain you love and adore, but it’s becoming harder and harder to lie to you all.

My Frances, my Courtney. My life and love. I love you both from the bottom of my aching bleeding heart and I know this now, as I always have, that you’re not worthy of this world. The thought of the world rubbing off on both of you as it has me makes me more scared than anything in this whole world. My girl, my angel Frances, these people will hurt you baby and I can’t stand to see that. Courtney, they will crush you, taint you, destroy you…just as humankind has done to me.

But I love you all; I care too much for each and every one of you out there. I bleed for all your pain, I cry for your sadness. I am made of the broken hearts out there, and I have to be numb to enjoy the gift I have been given. The gift of music.

Music. What once was my only escape has become my prison, my torment. The stage I dreamed of being on has become decadent and lifeless. Even the crowds, my beloved fans, have become too personal. I love you all too much, and I am such a fucking moody baby.

Escape, freedom is cold in my hands. A shotgun. Such a fucking hypocrite. All the boozed up, violent rednecks from Aberdeen I have so criticised adored this gun. Here I am, Kurt Cobain; lead singer of Nirvana, loved by and lover of millions, with a wife of 3 years and daughter of 2 and a life many would kill for. But I ache to be released from it all.

The note sits beside me, messy and tear stained, probably not making much sense at all. But it’s all I have right now. It’s the words from the bleeding heart of an aching man. Don’t cry for me, I’m already dead. My passion died long ago and it’s not fair for me to keep lying to you all like this.
Thank you all from the pit of my burning, nauseous stomach for your letters and concern during the past years. I'm too much of an erratic, moody baby! I don't have the passion anymore.
Remember me as I was in the beginning, not this miserable, self-destructive, death rocker that I've become.
A weary sigh, it seems to echo around.

It’s best to go out with a bang. Gun to my head, I take a breath and pull the trigger.

Remember, it’s better to burn out than fade away

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