PROMISES are meant to be BROKEN
“I promise,” was the last thing you said before you sped off in your Jeep Wrangler. “I promise I’ll be back next weekend,” you said. And I waited, like the young naive child I was. I waited for a week. Two weeks. Three weeks. And then three weeks slowly turned into six months. And six months slowly turned into a year. And it was in that moment that I realized that you weren’t ever coming back, not now, not ever. You were gone. The person I had once looked up to, had opened up my eyes so harshly it stung. You made me grow up rather quickly, but thanks to that, I now know that not all promises are meant to be fulfilled, some are just meant to be broken.
