you told me tonight that you're going to become a pop star like john mayer, and that when that happens, you'll forget all about us.
i won't let that happen.
first of all, because you won't be famous. don't kid yourself, darling. i love you, and i believe in you, but you're a small town kid with a crooked nose living in the middle of the pacific ocean, and though you play guitar like nothing i've ever seen before, your singing voice leaves much to be desired (let's leave it at that). you'll travel down south and ski in the wintertime, and you'll study adventure management, and in the summer time you'll come back up north to say hello and i'll miss you but it's okay. all of that, but not fame. not fame.
secondly, if you happen to become an overnight sensation like lorde, and you travel all around the world playing your music, you won't forget about me. you'll remember me in that first note of that song we played nonstop all winter, and you'll see my face in the mirror across from your bed where i used to sit and listen to you play in the summer, and you'll hear my laugh when you watch that one particular scene of my favourite movie. you won't forget me. you can't.
you're not going to be famous, and you're not going to forget me. and that's that.
