...Not the kind of wheel you fall asleep at...

Mourning Courtney Love

I normally could give two shits about celebrities and/or their plastic surgery.

But it seriously breaks my fucking heart to see Courtney Love nowadays.


Jesus, Courtney:

You were my GIRL. My grrrrrl.

Yours was one of the first cassettes I ever bought: Parmatown mall, middle school. Pretty on the Inside. It blew my mind that such music could exist. I still have it.

One of my friends SCREEN-PRINTED the cover of Pretty on the Inside on a t-shirt for me and I wore the SHIT out of that thing.

I wore plastic clips in my hair 'cause of you.

I know that you and Kurt Cobain got married on my birthday and have this picture of you two in my scrapbook at home from, like, Sassy Magazine or something:

You made me realize that girls could be sexy and powerful.

You made me realize: fuck skinny, fuck pretty.

You were my fucking body-image role-model.

You made me feel like something large and monstrous and man-eating lived inside me.

You made me okay with myself.

I longed to be even HALF as strong as you.

You were feminism.

You were my superheroine.

You helped me get through high school in one piece.

Thank you for that.

I am listening to Pretty on the Inside as we speak, and I still think it's a fucking kick-ass, ball-busting album.

So seeing you all plastic surgeried out:

It just makes me sad to see them win.



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