You Know Your Rights!

Love You So Much Makes Me Sick

Come on over
Shoot the shit (aha)
Love you so much
Makes me sick (aha)
Beat me out of me (beat it, beat it)
She keeps it pumpin' strait in my heart.- Nirvana

This year flew by so quickly. You and the guys were beginning to play at small venues across Washington , and so was I.  We didn't get to see each other a lot that year, because of how busy we were with our bands. However, I specifically remember one night. You were at one of your lowest points back then. 

It was 4:30 in the morning. I was dazed out looking at some dumb cartoon airing on TV. I vividly remember the phone ringing. I wasn't really awake or asleep for that matter all that was discernible around me was your voice. Your voice was shaky and it sounded unsure. It was almost like I could picture you quivering over the phone.

"Clarisse, please answer me. Are you there?"

"Yeah Kurt what is it. Why are you calling me so late in the night?"

"I'm scared. I'm in pain Clarisse. It fucking hurts."

"Where? Kurt you're scaring me what's wrong?"

Your emotions ran cold that night, but you spilled everything that you have been bottling up for what I assumed to be awhile now.

"My fucking stomach hurt, Clarrise. I feel like I might pass out and die."

"How are you coping with it? Please tell me you have some sort of medication you can use."

"I guess I do."

I told you to take them. I thought they were prescribed pills. It didn't cross my mind that you were ingesting fucking heroin. That night scared me. I immediately dropped everything to just be with you. My bandmates understood. They urged me to go to you.

When I came to see you you were skinnier than you usually were. You were never a bulky guy, but you almost looked anorexic or bulimic. It scared the piss out of me seeing you like that. Your eyes were red and puffy from either sleep depravation or from crying (maybe both), your hands were clammy, you looked pale, and you smelled like vomit. I didn't know what else to do that night so I just cradled you in my arms. 

I'm not a doctor. I couldn't help you medically. And I'm not that good with emotions so that was almost practically void as well. I just did what you always do for me when I cry. I just embraced you. You fell asleep in my arms around 6:30 A.M. , but I refused to leave you. I knew I would feel fucking terrible if I left you in the state you were in all alone. But I would never forget that day.

After that we spent more time together. We were still heavily involved with our bands, but we cut out more time for each other. I listened to some of your music while around you and it was heavenly. I compared you to Antonín Dvořák several time during those days. You looked over at me puzzled. I didn't and still don't blame you for not knowing who they were, but you seemed to possess his talent to me. No one else made me feel that way about their music in a long time except for him. You were the first person to really open up my eyes to their artistry in a while.

However, the medical issues didn't stop. You seemed to be improving while I on the other hand seemed to be deteriorating. When playing a live show with my band I didn't feel fully conscious or in control of my body. It was like having an outer body experience. I told you before that I just mostly stay on autopilot for the majority of the day, but it didn't feel nearly as scary and dehumanizing as it did then.

You bought me to the doctor that year and I was diagnosed with Depersonalization Disorder, Impulse Control Disorder,  Insomnia, and Depression.

You glazed over at my form with sad eyes as the doctors told me my about my psychosis. I somewhat always knew there was something very off about me, but I just didn't care back then. I still didn't really care when they told me in all honesty. All I knew was that I was going to be put on a shit ton of pills that most likely won't help me and will probably make me into some sort of brain dead zombie.

The air between us after we left the doctor's office was dense. The air was so thick that you could cut through it with a butter knife. Again, I felt somewhat parted from my body, brain, and mind as I saw your sad expression. I didn't really know what I was doing, but I hugged you. To this day I don't know whether that was to comfort me or you.

"Don't look at me like that Kurdt. I'm not a brainless zombie yet! You can still talk to me."

You laughed at that. The mood around us simultaneously seemed to brighten up too. 1988 was definitely a year full of bullshit, but there was still some good too.

We were both working on our debut albums around that time and that was nothing short of exhilarating. That was also the year I lost my virginity to you. 

It was such an odd feeling. I don't know if you were still a virgin then, but I didn't care. I still don't. We were both working so hard, and had so much shit to deal with, but you were there. You were and still are what I consider to be the rainbow at the end of the raging storm. 

For this reason alone 1988 was one of the best years for me and for us. However, nothing would compare to the fucking explosion that began in 1989.