Fighting for a medical appointment

Dear future historian,

I am, as I’m writing this, number 18th in the medical centre's phone queue. I'm waiting 45 min already. I was number 30 in the queue when this call started.

Let me introduce you to the story:

Finally today is the day

 Dear future historian,

I know I have been missing for months, but we both know that (time gaps in the past) for you is not even a thing; at least not a thing that has time separating my last post from this one. For you it's just a turn of the page, or a keep-scrolling kind of thing.

The distance to walk between the Parthenon marvels and the Benin bronzes in the British Museum. (Are these still there? A topic for another day, maybe).

Back to us. Is there a 'we', my dear future historian?

Am I just imagining a relationship, a dialogue, between us, all these years? Or am I facilitating (creating actually) a Parasocial relationship, * in which our time distance makes the possibility of our relationship ever becoming a two-way one impossible? And, if that is the case, is that OK, or not?

Poem or something

What?

Nothing makes sense.

50%/50% chances on any scenario

Maybe I've been fooled

Maybe Truth was there

Perhaps even Love had a drink in the back.

So what?

It doesn't matter anyway.

Nothing does.

I guess I confused you for You.

Well, I'll get up again, or something

Cause, whatever

I'll get up again and keep going

And, never stop

Cause I'll let nothing stop me

Not even you, or anyone, or anything 

Keep-walking is what matters 

I’ll keep walking

Hope to meet You there