Say You’ll Remember Me

Sep 15, 2015 by

“I can see the end as it begins. My one condition is: say you’ll remember me, standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset, babe.”

Wildest Dreams, Taylor Swift


          Whenever I like a Taylor Swift song – which, for the record, is almost never – I feel like I have to do penance. Why do I like this stupid (kind of good) song? I wondered in frustration as Wildest Dreams came on the radio in my car and I proceeded not to change the station for what was admittedly not the first time. In typical Taylor-Swift fashion, most of the lyrics are annoying, I mentally remarked as I sang along to my least favourite part, “He’s so bad but he does it so well.” Ugh, so cliché. Why do I like this?

          It’s that line, I heard a voice from the back of my head say.

          It’s that line about expecting nothing. It’s that line about wanting to be remembered. It’s that line that ends with babe.

          Fuck, I realized, I’m relating to Taylor Swift.




          “You’re going to be in a relationship with this guy,” my friend said over two years ago.

          “No, I’m not,” I laughed, remembering him too well to get my hopes up.

          “Sure you will! A little bit of texting, a few dates, and –” she trailed off as if it were inevitable.

          “I’m never going to hear from him again,” I continued to laugh at her blind faith.

          I was wrong.

          About the last part.

          I was right about the rest.




          There’s comfort in being remembered. When you have one-way feelings for someone that you don’t know how to justify because of the very fact that they aren’t being returned, there’s comfort in knowing that you’re not easily forgotten. It makes you feel like you have some sort of proof of history to back your emotions. I knew I’d be remembered; and once I finally gave up on “the rest,” that was all I could hope for. I didn’t want to be looked back on as just some girl he could have had if he wanted. I wanted to be known for the same story that I would know him for.

          Now that I no longer have feelings that I’m trying to justify, though – now that I no longer need the closure that comes with being unforgettable – how he remembers me doesn’t matter. What matters is how I remember him, because that shapes how I go forward. And as far as I remember, he was a beautiful lesson in happiness.

Happiness Tip: Remember the good.

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