Last Letter

C'est ce qu'on se disait hier soir, ou très tôt ce matin, que c'était la periode. Ce genre de lois des séries étrange et d'évènements qui se bousculent on ne sait pas bien pourquoi. Le printemps qui agite tout un tas de pulsions qu'il faudrait enfouir, peut-être.

 "I must be one of those narcissists who only appreciate things when they're gone. I'm too sensitive. I need to be slightly numb in order to regain the enthusiasm I once had as a child."

Des pulsions destructrices qui poussent certains à se jeter du haut du chateau, ou à avaler des cachets.

"There's good in all of us and I think I simply love people too much, so much that it makes me feel too fucking sad. The sad little sensitive, unappreciative, Pisces, Jesus man. Why don't you just enjoy it? I don't know!

I don't have the passion anymore, and so remember, it's better to burn out than to fade away."

(Dernière lettre de Kurt Cobain)

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