Reminder that a brain can hold only a finite amount of memories, and it is likely that after 400 or 500 years, your immortal waifu won't even remember who you were.

>You are Twilight Sparkle, Princess Celestia's very own special student.
>And after much persuasion (read: whining), she has agreed to take you to that secret place she goes every year on this date.
>Turns out, it's less exciting and educational than you thought it was.
>In fact, it's rather somber.
>It's a graveyard.
>"You asked me why I visit this graveyard each year, Twilight. And in truth, the answer is that I don't know why. This is a very old graveyard, one that we had stopped using a few hundred years ago."
"You don't remember? How could you forget?"
>"You have to understand that I am not perfect, Twilight. It is inevitable that I will forget things as the centuries pass. I have tried to combat this by writing important things down, but that is a flawed system; for paper crumbles, and etched stone wears away."
"Why not just have your aids make copies of your notes every few years so that you always have a new copy? That way you won't lose them."
>"The answer to that isn't simple, my protege. Language changes and evolves, and even a perfect copy of the script I wrote down or etched into stone will eventually lose all meaning as more modern versions of our language slowly replaces the older version in my mind."
"Lots of ponies study ancient Equestrian, princess! Couldn't they transla-"
>"Why are the works of Gabrielle of Prance popular in Prance but not here, Twilight?"
"Because the Prench are dirty lit-"
>"Twilight."
"...they say it's because Gabrielle uses figures of speech that don't translate well into Equish."
>"Exactly. The majesty of the original dialect is lost when it's translated from Prench to Equish. Their language structure is much different from our own, and ideas and concepts are expressed in ways that don't have a counterpart or an equivalent in our language."
"So what you're saying is... oh."
>"Yes; oh. I tried translating my old words, Twilight. I only found gibberish. Gibberish and a clumsy attempt from my past-self to capture who exactly this anonymous individual was. In fact, his name doesn't even translate at all from ancient Equish - I call him 'Anonymous' out of necessity."
"Is this why you come to this graveyard, princess?"
>"Yes, Twilight. As best as I can figure - as best as I can REMEMBER - somepony very important to me is probably buried here. I return to this site every year on this exact day, and I can only assume that this 'Anonymous' creature is the one who is buried here."
"Do you really not know who he was?
>"No, I don't remember. Maybe he was an old friend. Maybe he was my most hated enemy. We could have been lovers, for all I know. I can't even use these graves to find out what his name was; no caretaker has tended to these groves for hundreds of years, and the names have long since been lost to time. I don't even know which grave is his."
"That's... that's very sad, princess."
>"..."
"..."
>"...I have heard many poets and songwriters call my immortality a treasure and a priceless gift, Twilight. But in truth, it is a curse. I hope you are never struck with it."
"M-Me neither, princess."
>"Now follow me, my student. The Summer Sun festival is coming up, and I have plans to send you to a little farming village to help set it up."