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A Love Letter to Rock’n’Roll 


Written by Matt Bullock (they/them) | @mbb_247 | Contributing Writer

Illustrated by Ilya Kurilyak (he/him) | @kurilyaak | Contributing Illustrator

The first time I laid my eyes on her I knew that she was the only one I wanted to listen to.

You see, she’s got a young body but an old soul.

Kind of like me.

Maybe that’s the reason.

I know she’s the one for me.

She talks in guitar rifts and drum solos depending on her mood she goes from mellow and psychedelic to full on heavy metal screamo and everything else in between.

She smells of crowded underground clubs filled with sweaty people head banging and fist pumping.

Her perfume has labels ranging from London to Seattle, Washington.

Her raven black hair waves in the wind as proud as the stars and stripes. She wears a single bright blue highlight. People say it makes her seem too loud and confronting but I think it makes her all the more beautiful. 

I remember when we first met, I saw her sitting on a CD rack she wore a shirt with a love heart grenade on it. She talked about how she didn’t want to be an American idiot anymore I agreed with her. We talked for hours about how much we hate the redneck agenda. 

That was over a decade ago. I’ve now seen her in so many forms it’s hard to count from tie dyed shirts to bad hair days and even her angst filled stage. 

People tell me it’s bad to be in love with such an older woman and I should get with the newer girls but they're all so fake with their plastic faces and false boobs their just not my type. 

Others tell me that rock’n’roll is dying but I know we’ll keep on trying. You see, she’s been written off before. But I know since the first time I laid my eyes on her I knew that she was the only one I wanted to listen to. 


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