He was too beautiful

If you ever copied the lyrics of “No Wrong, No Right” over and over in your teenage journal

If you ever moshed in a pit to “Rusty Cage”

If you ever dubbed a copy of Screaming Life/Fopp from a friend

If you ever hung a photo of a shirtless rock god, arms outstretched, on your dorm room wall

If you ever sang “Say Hello 2 Heaven” with a room full of strangers at 2 am

If you ever argued about who — Cornell or Vedder — had a better voice

If you ever introduced your first born to “Outshined” at full volume while driving in the car

Then you know what it’s like to receive a text today that said: 
“He was too beautiful to die.”

He was. He is. We all are.

Cornell. Cornell. Cornell.

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