October 1992.

“junkie man with his junkie wife.”

Its 2am, you finally put your two month old daughter to bed after a long night of her crying non-stop.

You sit at the edge of your bed, in your teal pajamas, with your acoustic guitar in your lap. You play a soft, simple, but sad tune, messing up a bit though.

”~and I’m stinking of..you..”

you slur, trying to sing properly but you’re just too tired, and dazed.

Your husband of 8 months, Kurt, sits opposite to you with his video camera, recording you play, tired too.

”~sing too, kurt..”

”i wiiillll..”