When you see him for the first time, it's like looking at the sun after years of being in the dark. It sheds light on things that you barely remember, on words that remind you of distant times, on feelings that you thought were long lost.

That's when you start to get sick. You want to believe everything he says, but you know that the world is a dirty place of torment. You want to go out into the light, grow up under it’s eternally bright rays, but you will not be naive again.

Kurt look at the sun too long, and it starts to dazzle him. He knows that he can't look away, he's hypnotized and reaching for the light, and he's terrified that he's surrounded by only pitch darkness again. Cobain dulls his senses to ease the tension, thinking it will be less painful if his vision is blurred and if his words blend into each other while you pretend not to listen.

Drink until the burning desire to reach out and touch him disappears in your fingers, to check if he is really a marble lover of freedom, a stone adonis. You try not to think of him as your galatea, because your stained lips will never be able to breathe life into the statue.

If he's the sun, then you're Icarus. What's left of your wings is burning, but you can't change direction, and the sun is still calling you like a siren of all that's good and right. You don't fly too close to the sun. You approach him by offering yourself. The sun stops burning you. You're both in the light.

You see Kurt Cobain in a clear azure sky, in worn converse and in a fucking teen spirit deodorant.

"Someday I'll definitely take you and me out of this fucking city, I promise." A joke he casually threw, which dissolved into a good laugh while the two of you were sitting at the gas station. The day was drawing to a close in aberdeen, and the sky was covered with gray clouds. But it didn't matter as long as the feeling of your shoulder on his own stayed with him. Kurt was an ordinary high school student, but his ambitions were far-reaching, and he just knew he can.