(Source: erykasarrio, via bestarryeyed)
![“When Kurt Cobain was alive he was known as the mysterious, quiet rocker. When he died he was known as a depressed drug addict. Kurt Cobain didn’t use drugs because the drugs used him. I don’t think anyone who knew him personally saw him the way the media portrayed him. Did the media ever mention that after a show was over he would sit in the tour bus and write back fan mail? He would try to answer at least thirty letters a night. In 1993, the media never reported the story of Kurt Cobain visiting a fan who wrote him [Kurt Cobain] a letter and asked him to come see her before she died of Cancer. They [the media] never forgot to remind everyone that he had demons though. Don’t listen to what you might have heard from the media. Kurt Cobain loved every single fan he had. He just couldn’t deal with being put on a pedestal that he was constantly afraid of falling off of.”
-Danny Goldberg](http://24.media.tumblr.com/0a83ba1f5ed4feee4761120c8c325a00/tumblr_mj20vrdOzS1qkoy6oo1_r1_400.gif)
“When Kurt Cobain was alive he was known as the mysterious, quiet rocker. When he died he was known as a depressed drug addict. Kurt Cobain didn’t use drugs because the drugs used him. I don’t think anyone who knew him personally saw him the way the media portrayed him. Did the media ever mention that after a show was over he would sit in the tour bus and write back fan mail? He would try to answer at least thirty letters a night. In 1993, the media never reported the story of Kurt Cobain visiting a fan who wrote him [Kurt Cobain] a letter and asked him to come see her before she died of Cancer. They [the media] never forgot to remind everyone that he had demons though. Don’t listen to what you might have heard from the media. Kurt Cobain loved every single fan he had. He just couldn’t deal with being put on a pedestal that he was constantly afraid of falling off of.”
-Danny Goldberg
(Source: nevermindbleachinutero, via seaachildd)
We lit our cigarettes off of each other’s. We were never meant to be, no. We had sex, but I could never let her touch me. She couldn’t have extracted my soul from all the places it was hiding. That’s okay. We were what we were, when we needed it.
She was out on my balcony, late one night. I was in the kitchen, when I sensed a change in energy. I walked out onto the balcony to find her sitting with a cigarette in her fingers, trembling with tears streaming down her cheeks.
I sat down in front of her, and said gently, “Come here, sweetheart.” She slid into my lap, and sobbed into my shoulder. I remember the exact feeling of her back beneath my fingertips, as I ran my fingers up and down her spine. My god, I held her, and for the first time in so long, I felt something in my heart that resembled softness. It was a heartbreaking, heartmaking feeling.
She melted my permafrost in that moment. I cared. Suddenly, I could feel tenderness again. That was a frozen ocean melting and surging to meet her. I owe my change in seasons to her. My summer finally returned.
—C; How Do You Take Your Coffee? (series)
(Source: memoirsofc, via innlausn)
(Source: sorrow-is-denied, via hulk-hika)
(via poisonedcandyfloss)
Pac stood up, and it’s the first thing you heard him say in like, two weeks of court. ‘You know, your honor, throughout this entire court case, you haven’t looked me or my attorney in the eye once. It’s obvious that you’re not here in the search for justice, so therefore, there’s no point in me asking for a lighter sentence. I don’t care what you do cause you’re not respecting us, this is not a court of law; as far as I’m concerned, no justice is being served here, and you still can’t look me in the eye. So I say, do what you wanna do, give me whatever time you want, because I’m not in your hands, I’m in God’s hands.
I love him. 108372947th reblog.
OHHHH THE LAST SENTENCE THOUGH. TELL EM HOW ITS DONE IN THE HOOD, PAC.
(Source: goongothacked, via bmcay)
(Source: hanaparakova, via bmcay)
(Source: vans-supreme, via bmcay)
