You took me on a first date in late August, it must’ve been, and showed me one of the most beautiful songs I’ve ever heard in my life. I played it every day of September and haven’t stopped since.
Fighting tears from the cigarette smoke I accidentally puffed into eyes or the song, I was too proud to admit which, brought me to a realization:
I never would’ve been sitting in the smoking patio of an unknown hotel bar listening to this song out of your shitty iPhone speaker in Sydney if my life hadn’t gone the way it had thus far.
You’re pursuing acting. And you asked really good questions.
You told me that I have no choice now, when I told you I want to be a singer. When I told you singing is what makes my heart burst into flames of passion and pushes me to enjoy this life.
You told me I’m one of the gifted people in life that have no choice but to do what they love because doing anything else has no meaning. That when the heart wants something so deeply, it’s pointless running from it. That life is going to be hard no matter what, so I might as well do myself a favor and do what makes living worth it.
I never heard from you again.
You weren’t meant to stay. But I’ll take the song and your words with me.
Guess I’ll see you in the movies.