you hide away with your passion and you won't let it show.
you sit in a dark room with just your fingers and your ears and you play that guitar like nothing i've ever seen before.
why are you so shy about it? why must you be so humble?
you have a gift, darling, and the world should know about you.
but right now you're trying to hide away and focus on your passion without sharing it because maybe to become a mad genius you have to become mad before genius. i'm worried for you, darling. i don't want you turning into a jimi hendrix or a john mayer because yes, they're famous and rich and famously rich, but they're so lonely, darling, so lonely.
(also, one of them's dead. his passion killed him. i don't want that to be you.)
because i see you in your dark room. i know your passion because you share it with me. because i understand. but you must also understand that i love you and i don't want to see you suffer. you must be careful, darling, lest your passion chokes you, suffocates you, until you are left only with a guitar and fingers and ears but no soul.
and i'm sorry, but i can't sacrifice you for this. i see it happening already - your playing gets better but your eyes get darker, and you retract away from anyone who tries to touch you (except me, because i understand), and i'm scared for you.
i just want you to know that you can be a genius without the madness. don't let it suffocate you.
