Promises are things often made to ourselves and to others, sometimes for others. I’ve been on a roll these last few months making promises as fast as I can cook up excuses and lies. The scary part is what if they are excuses and lies. I don’t want them to be anything of the sort, but the truth is they might be a means to avoiding finality.
A promise is an almost, a can be or a will be. It’s pretentious. Walking around claiming to be ‘halfway there’ or an effort made. It makes us feel better for not doing these things because promising to do something makes you feel like you’ve already taken a step to doing this something.
That’s part of the decision I made. No more promises, till I have done everything that I said. Either way, when it’s all complete, promises are something I intend to leave behind. I don’t want them to be empty. It’s what happens when things are over used they lose meaning and value, like the words “I love you” and “I’m sorry.”
If I promise you something I want you to know that I mean it. I don’t want it to be a been-there-done-that situation where you know you can’t depend on the end results because I’ve made too many for me to keep. I want it to be something special. Maybe I’m the perfect example of a sentimental hopeless romantic (though not many people know this, trust me when I say I don’t like for it to surface) but I really do want it to be something special. Which to be honest might be a little impossible.
I don’t want to promise you any more things. I don’t want my promises to turn into a familiar shadow that surfaces every New Years or Christmas. I don’t want my promises to leave you hungry.