"What would you wish for if you had one chance?"
You have been walking for so long that your feet cry in protest, they scream and try to buckle beneath you. But you decide not to fall, because that would not be you. You have always been a fighter, haven't you? You don't give up easily because fighters fight, they don't give up.
You always knew what you wanted, but you chose the best for the greater good, because they have sustained you and now you feel obligated, your conscience fraught with excuses that you never had the means or resources to live your dream and that you must love what you are doing, because that's how it should be. Life, you say, is not a movie that you can throw away things and chase your passions or larger-than-life dreams. That would be idiotic. And immature.
You wait for the approval of that one person all your life, reading between the lines, finding meanings in their disguised words. That one person will inevitably become the center of your Universe. You will reject the idea. You are not dependent on them. You are not trying to please them in any manner. You are definitely not craving their attention. Please! You are better than that. But somewhere in the recesses of your heart, a tiny version of you, tied up in your hopes and dreams, speaks, "You still need them. You are trying this for them. You will feel guilty if you do something they do not approve of." And you do what you want, to quell this stupid voice.
Now you are aging and melancholia is the way you have adapted to. Because it seems more realistic, because you will meet the same end as everyone. Because, you thought you were something extraordinary - someone chosen - someone especial for whom destiny had massive plans. But you know now, there's nothing like a paradise behind that rustle of the wind or the cool breeze that blows from the sea. Everything is as it is. Predetermined, predestined. Isn't it?
Let's live like this. Without hope, with everything black and white. Let's live in a world where we cannot make mistakes, you would like that, wouldn't you? Everything perfectly streamlined and homogeneous, aligned into the way acceptable to everyone. Including you. Because it is better to be stuck in a rut than to speak up, or break a few hearts, because it will cause you bad karma. Your kids (if you have them) will treat you the same way. No? Your parents will curse you for being a bad egg, no? Your husband/wife will loathe you after a few years because you are not what they had imagined you to be. So let's be what everyone, each and everyone is asking you to be.
Because we are everyone, no? So why can't we be what we want to be? At least for ourselves. Why can't we,just for one day, today, do one thing that we really hold dear to our hearts. A small, seemingly inconsequential thing? Like buying flowers for yourself, or watching the sun go down and come up and be grateful that you and your loved ones are hail and hearty. Someday, maybe, you will know, like I know, that someday, hoping wouldn't be so bad, for it will give you an indomitable strength to stand up, without your knees crying in protest.
"Yeah, yeah, somebody take me back to the days
Before this was a job, before I got paid,
Before it ever mattered what I had in my bank,
Yeah, back when I was tryin' to get a tip at Subway,
And back when I was rappin' for the hell of it,
But nowadays we rappin' to stay relevant.
I'm guessin' that if we can make some wishes outta' airplanes,
Then maybe yo maybe I'll go back to the days,
Before the politics that we call the rap game,
And back when ain't nobody listen to my mix tape,
And back before I tried to cover up my slang,
But this is for the hater, what's up Bobby Ray?
So can I get a wish,
To end the politics,
And get back to the music,
That started this shit?
So here I stand and then again I say,
I'm hopin' we can make some wishes outta' airplanes."