This is a little awkward. I know you didn't think it would end like this. You were riding so high on that rock 'n' rollercoaster ride that you didn't have time to think about the inevitable drop. And now you have to consider what happens now that the ride has stopped, the park has closed, and you're being forcibly removed from the area because you called the ride operator a "d-ck fart" and refused to get out of your seat.
Let me start by telling you how happy I am that you're off the road. All that touring and recording and fanfare and those magazine interviews... It must have all been so exhausting. It must be nice to take a break from that. To get back to normal. To be another boring slob without a career. That is living!
But what's so great about your situation is that no matter what, you can always think back to how you used to be somebody. You had something. And even if you spend the rest of your life reverting to a worthless nobody with nothing but the memory of being somebody with something, no one can ever take those few, brief moments of stardom away from you.
You're a one-hit wonder! You should be psyched! Or... At least not suicidal. I mean, what if you'd never even gotten the opportunity to become a has-been. What if you'd never shot off across the night like a shooting star only to crash into the abyss with all those other stars who burned before you? No one would have seen you burn so beautifully and destructively. That... That would be worse, wouldn't it?
I'm not saying this in the best way. Let me explain this in a way that you, a previously successful musician without a college education, can understand.
It's like, some people are allergic to chocolate. But they don't know that until they have a bite of a Snickers bar and their throat swells up and they can't breathe. That's what this is like. Eating a Snickers bar for the very first time and then immediately having your throat hole close up. And sure, those people with chocolate allergies are probably really bummed that they can never have another Snickers bar - or any kind of chocolate - ever again. But would they go back in time and slap that candy bar out of their own hand? No! And not just because "The Butterfly Effect" taught us all far too poignantly of the dangers of time travel. It's because they wouldn't trade that bite for the world.
True, never knowing how delicious that chocolatey, caramel-filled, peanut-packed candy bar really is might make it easier to cope with the fact that they're never going to have another bite of that sweet and salty delight ever again. But... Oh would you look at that, my mouth is all watery.
What I'm saying is those fifteen seconds before their lungs started burning were probably really special. Made even more special by the fact that it's the only time it would ever happen. Ever.
So what's the big deal? You've enjoyed the success of a single hit! I mean... A hit single! That's more than a lot of people can say. That... That easily bests a no-hit wonder any day of the week! I mean, sure, it's not as good as a two-hit wonder. And, yeah, it doesn't come close to a four-hit wonder. Five hits probably seems like some kind of faraway illusion, completely out of reach considering you're current position at the bottom of the pop music garbage pile.
Still, you've got a start. You just need to write four songs that are better than all those other songs you put out that people didn't seem to enjoy all that much. That's... Talk about do-able!
I know what you're going to say. You want to have all hits. But is that really the best way to look at this? Let's face it, your band was no Aerosmith. But the good news is your face doesn't look like someone stretched silly putty over a worn out boot. So chalk that up in the win column for you, one-hit wunderkind.
Every once in a while you'll turn on the radio to hear your song played on one of those Where Are They Now segments DJs have such a massive boner for these days. Then, you can sit back and reflect on how awesome your life used to be. How people who weren't IRS representatives wanted your autograph.
Please stop crying. I didn't mean to upset you.
You're in some very distinguished company, you know. Dishwalla. Jesus Jones. Warrant. That guy who sang "Mambo No. 5."
Ok, put those pills down...