The time will come and we won’t be done.
The time will be back on track again, but our fears, deceptions and goals will be suspended in our void of uncertainty.
But in the end, the time will come and we will feel kisses, hugs and tears on our skins.
We’re isolated since the beginning, inside and outside of our minds, social medias and life in general, but tonight we just want to get back to that time when we could pretend we were free, and enjoy the sunset holding hands.
After the pandemonium we’ll wait patiently for the calm after the biggest storm of our mental health, and like a summer breeze it will give us a fresh air, without physical or invisible masks that we’ve been wearing nowadays.
We’ll fall apart, but perhaps enjoying the last song of a weird party, surrounded by interesting people, getting wasted in a not so interesting way.
Our feet will hurt bad after a walk listening to music composed by unknown artists, and we’ll have more reasons to find a good filter for our digital eyes.
Yeah, the time will come, and life will be so different, so unusual, but one more time we’ll face the details of hair, clothes and hands, without hurry or scrolling while our eyes were staring at the ceiling.
Let’s hope for the best, enjoying this forced relationship with the bad, after a quick divorce from the worst.
We want a match, a bouquet of roses, a mixtape and the sweetest kiss full of hope.
Maybe a call in the middle of night, asking for comfort. It might be in a biblical way, or just to read a real book, telling about the routine of an unreal diary. You know, another phrase to ask you “how are you?”.
If our phones get to quiet, then we’ll know that the time is here, and we can leave our “places” holding boards written “I MISS U!”.
Until then, let’s pretend we are okay, enjoy our walls, sing along to a song that will make you remember us, and promise that we will rise another day.
The time will come and we’ll be there, forever.
