We had the highest highs, and the lowest lows…” —repel the robot.
Labor Day Weekend marks the end of the summer for most people. Technically, we all know that the end of the summer doesn’t officially begin until the Fall Equinox, but the day after Labor Day has a way of coming on strongly and disregarding that bit of info. People go back to school, back to their countries, back to their miserable lives after a magical summer, and throughout all of those scenarios loves across the world become lost. Hearts are broken, endless tears come crashing down the sides of sad faces, but at the same time memories are made, feelings are felt, and the hearts of souls become stronger for all of it.
Sometimes others fail to realize that for as much as we laugh and as happy as we may seem all the time when we are around them, that we also get into our modes of sadness and pain when in complete solace. Sometimes these pains come from losing someone we love, or loved, in our lives. It’s not that we necessarily lose them in this lifetime because only a handful of us know what the future holds, but for the now they are gone, and we ironically feel so many strong emotions that swell up inside us from that very emptiness they have left.
This Time Tomorrow is one of those tunes that feels beautifully familiar. It’s a tune full of hope, full of beautifully executed vocals that we can all relate to, and full of guitar strings that tell their own story parallel to the lovely lyrics by repel the robot.
Nearly halfway through, the song goes into an impeccably theatrical bridge that feels like a ride I have been on once too many times; a ride that begins serene and calm as I stare from my seat at everything that is beautiful and take it all in. The ride then starts pumping its blood as my ride becomes our ride, together. Two hearts in the same vehicle experiencing life with each other, and then, the music shifts us all into the excitement of love and just how intense the most beautiful kinds of it can all be. As we end that bridge, both figuratively and literally, we come back full-circle to that beautifully simple hook that got us caught up in the entire ordeal in the first place:
I know what I should do, But I just can’t let you go. Every bone inside my body says that, I should let you know. And, I know what I should do, But I just can’t let you go. Every bone inside my body says that I,— I should love you.”
And then, as the song ends, we get reminded of the only form of true hopefulness that we have in life. That reminder is simply to never give up on something that you cannot do a day without, and that even if you never get it— life is worth living the most when you have something to die for.