hoping that somebody knows we’re here. (Story)

Verse 1

You ever just sit in your car in the driveway?

Engine cut off, lights still on, staring at the steering wheel.

Wondering how the hell you got to this exact day,

When you swore at sixteen you'd have the whole world figured out by now.

Shit. Look at us.

We're paying bills we don't understand,

Working jobs that take up all the daylight,

Trying to text people back before it's been three days,

Just pretending we've got our shit together.

I swear, half of adulthood is just making facial expressions

That make other people think you know what you're doing.

You buy groceries for one. You fold laundry in silence.

And every once in a while, you hear an old song—

Not even a great song, just a time song—

And it hits you right in the chest, man.

Takes you right back to summers on porches,

Back when nobody was tired, back before the ghost towns we made out of our old friendships.

People just... drift.

Nobody has a falling out, nobody throws a punch,

They just text less. They get busy. They grow sideways instead of together.

And one day you realize you're talking to pictures on a screen

Of people you used to share secrets with in the dark.

How the fuck did that happen?

Hook

And the room gets heavy at three a.m.

When the phone glows blue and you're wide awake again,

Thinking 'bout the choices, the lefts instead of rights,

The way time slips right through us on these quiet nights.

We're all just guessing, we're all just scared,

Hoping that somebody knows we're here.

Yeah, hoping that somebody knows we're here.

Verse 2

And the pressure, man—jesus Christ, the pressure.

Like you're standing on the edge of a cliff made of expectations,

Wondering if you're doing enough, whatever the fuck enough even means.

Are you saving enough? Are you working hard enough?

Are you making the people who raised you proud,

Or are they looking down shaking their heads at how soft you turned out?

Every mistake you ever made plays on a loop in the dark.

That one stupid thing you said at a party seven years ago?

Yeah, your brain reminds you of it while you're trying to sleep.

And you punch the pillow. You turn over.

You swear you're gonna change tomorrow.

Tomorrow comes, you're just as tired.

You wake up, drink the bitter coffee, check the phone, put the mask back on.

"I'm good," you say. "Yeah, hanging in there."

When inside you feel like a glass house about to take a hurricane.

We spend so much damn energy trying to look bulletproof,

When all anyone really wants is to drop the act

And hear someone else say, "Man, me too. This shit is hard."

Hook

And the room gets heavy at three a.m.

When the phone glows blue and you're wide awake again,

Thinking 'bout the choices, the lefts instead of rights,

The way time slips right through us on these quiet nights.

We're all just guessing, we're all just scared,

Hoping that somebody knows we're here.

Yeah, hoping that somebody knows we're here.

Bridge

And time doesn't wait for you to catch your breath.

It just keeps marching.

The parents get older. The knees start clicking.

The mirror shows lines you didn't vote for.

And you realize nobody's coming to rescue you.

There's no grand finale where everything suddenly makes sense.

This is it. Right now. The messy middle.

And maybe... maybe that's okay.

Maybe you don't need to have the map.

Maybe just keeping your head up,

And trying to be kind to the person next to you

Who's fighting the exact same invisible war—

Maybe that's enough.

Outro

Yeah.

Just keep moving.

Even if you don't know where you're going.

You're not the only one awake, man.

We're all just figuring it out as we go.

Turn off the screen.

Breathe.

Tomorrow's coming whether you're ready or not.

So let's just be here for it.