Promise me this. Promise me exactly this. That Friday nights at the park would be awesome; just you, me and the stars. We can welcome the streetlights and the loud horns out of nowhere. The people would pass us by like comets which we barely even notice knowing we’re the brightest celestial bodies hovering around our galaxy. Not even the noise would bring us down for we own these nights.
We would take a stroll noticing things; tiny things that we’ve always held dear. We will talk about how life was unkind and how destiny was compassionate to us, so much that fate graced us with miracles. And then we will talk about how the personification of those miracles were having each other.
But these are promises that cannot be made real. At least, not for the time being as we are fated to part time and time again.
One thing I learned from promises that cannot be made real is quite simple. Some promises could be broken. Some promises could and could not be realized. Others become dreams worth achieving.