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Dave Grohl's P.O.V.

The crowd was amazing tonight. The lights were shining perfectly on the beautiful frontman's face. His hair was shaggy, like always, and his loose fitting over coat hung comfortably over his frail body. He sat in a chair. More like a stoll. It was the most digusting color of green. Like his coat. But he always seemed to make the coat look radiant.

At the end of 'It Smells like Teen Spirit', he turned around and smiled at us to tell us the show was done. We walked off stage and into the lounge. It was quite comfortable. I sat in the chair, drinking a beer. Krist sat down next to me with his head back and his eyes shut, trying to sleep.

Kurt laid on the couch. He seemed so comfortable. His eyes closed. His hood over his head, covering his face. His arms completely hidden within the sleeves. His jacket was open and you could plainly see a black and red horizontily striped shirt and black pants.

"Great show guys!" shouted our manager as he entered the room. "Krist! Beautiful job on the bass. Dave. Keep up the good work! You doing WAY better than when we started! And Kurt..." His face changed from happy to bored when Kurt lifted the hood and looked at the manager sadlly. "Next time... drink some water. Your voice was flat and you kept messing up on the guitar. Work on that, okay."

He left the room and Kurt lowered the hood again. Poor guys. Out manager was always putting him down. Kurt shifted on the couch sighing and his pants slid up his leg a little. From the view, I could see the fresh cuts on his ankles. All of use thought they were from him falling down the stairs, with he did often. But I knew the truth. Kurt cut himself. Not just his ankles. But his wrist. That why he always wore such a over sized coat all the time. I feel so sorry for him. He has nobody.


The band crew finished packing all out instruments in the van. It was small. We had 3 bunks. (One regular bed and a bunk bed.) And Kurt slept above me on the bunk beds. Krist slept by himself. Kurt said he wanted to go to bed early today. No bigy. It was the last show.


It's been 3 weeks since we got home. Not really home. None of us had homes. We said with our manager in a studio cabin thing. There was a studio to recond music and rooms for all of us.

I'v been worried about Kurt lately. He recently got over herion and was suffering from withdrawal. I was scaried. He was so pale and thin. He barely ate. And no matter how much sun he got, he was so white, he made paper look dirty.

Our manager brought us some food today cause we were starving. And by we, I mean me and Krist. Kurt stayed in his room. We had Chinese and I thought it'd be mean to not at least try to make Kurt eat some. He'll starve f he doesn't eat soon.

I walked into his room with a plate full of his favorite Chinese foods. "Hey. Kurt. I know you're not hungry, but at least eat a little. I'm worried for you." I entered the room and looked for a lightswitch. Once I found it, I flicked it up to the see a sight I wish I hadn't.

Kurt was laying on his bed with his fce facing the door. His eyes were red and a bit puffy from crying. And his mouth was leaking blood. I was terrified. It took a minute, but then I relized the bottles of pills and a bottle of liquor next to him. I screamed.


An ambulance came and took Kurt away. Were also went to the hospital. The entire time me and Krist stayed in the empty waiting room listenng to our manager screaming at the doctor to 'wake Kurt the fu** up!'. I was in tears and Krist was trying to hold back his tears.

Our manager walked in with his face streaked with dry tears. I asked what the doctor had said. He shook his head.


The doctor came back a while later. Actually, 3 hours to be exact. He removed his fac mask as me and Krist bombarded him with questions about Kurt.

He shook his head and answered. "We're not sure if we could save him. He's very weak and barely breathing. Aparently, he took and overdose of pills and alcohol with heroin."

"Heroin!? I thought he was off herion."

"He was. Judging from the fact that it had such an impack on him, it probably was the first time he has used it in a while. But, anyway, if he makes it threw the night... he'll probably make a... particle recovery."

'Particle.' I wanted to cry. If Kurt does live, he'll be fu**** up. But if he doesn't... well, he won't be alive.


The rest of the night was spent with me and Krist sleeping in the waiting room. I had gotten into a fight with our manager because he said he cared wither or not Kurt lived. But I knew he didn't. He was just trying to look like a good manager in front of the doctor.


By morning, Kurt had lived and had woken up. But he was still to weak to breath on his own. He were allowed into his room to see him. An air mask had covered his face, and multiple wires were adorning his arm.

The most heartbreaking moment was when Kurt was getting tired. His eyes were closing and hisbreathing was dimming. He motioned with his finger for me to get closer. Mostly because, of his entire arm, his fingers were all he could move.

I got closer to his face to hear what he was trying so hard to tell me. "Pl-Please. Hold... my... h-hand." When he said hand, it sounded more like a sigh. He had forced out the words with all his energy. i took his hand in my own. He smiled.


If I was with Kurt when he killed himself... I just know I would kill myself too. He suffered so much. I could have helped. But I didn't. When he became extremely depressed right before he killed himself, I refused to come visit him when he asked me to come over. I was to tired. But so was he.

I regret everything. I know our manager regrets eveything he did to Kurt also. We all did domething to offend him. And those thing were what caused him to kill himself.

Kurt Cobain (February 20, 1967 – April 5, 1994) Gun shot wound to the head.

Gone but never forgotten.

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