Broken Promises

Dear BFDiary,

One of my best friends in the entire world is someone I met when I was about three or four. For the first half of our lives we did everything together, we watched the same movies (anything with the Olsen twins), shopped at the same store (Limited Too), and went to camp together (she’ll kill me for saying it, but I rode the horses, while she pretended to be sick). We even developed crushes on guys that were friends.

Living on different sides of town and attending different schools, though, made sustaining the friendship difficult. After elementary school, I begged my parents to switch me to her private school, but they shrugged it off and mentioned that we could try for high school. Ironically, once ninth grade rolled around, I sprung for a private school in Farmington Hills and along with nearly everyone I’d known and befriended in middle school, she went to the best public high school Detroit has to offer. We decided that college was the only time we’d get to decide our own fate, and promised to room together at Spelman. Well, that promise was broken, but, considering our friendship has lasted more than a lot of marriages, I’d say our promise to be true blues for life was one we really meant.

All relationships are ready-made with some type of promise. We promise to obey our parents (for the most part) and they promise to invest in our livelihood (food, shelter, clothing, a last name). Hell, even my relationship with my manicurist involves a pact. I promise to tip her well and she promises to give me a student discount and premier service every time. Every now and again, like my old hair stylist who always swore to get me in and out in 3 hours, you make a promise you can’t keep. But the worst promises you break, are the ones you make to yourself.

I’m not talking a new years resolution where you vow to lose 15 pounds but never keep your promise to jog and stop eating French fries. I’m talking about the promises to love yourself—to keep yourself spiritually, mentally, physically, financially, and emotionally well. The promise you make when you decide to get up in the morning and face the day with fierceness and dust yourself off from yesterday’s disappointments. And the promise to never learn any lesson more than once.

The promise I made to myself when I got over my last heartbreak was that I’d be wiser, more cautious, and less trusting. Love, as it tends to do, pulled a fast one on me. And now I find myself wondering which promise I broke and when. How did I end up right here with(out) you….

The worst part of it all is that I can’t remember the last promise I broke that I made to someone else, anyone else. So my beautiful and faithful BFD readers, I’ll make a promise to you. I promise to put myself in position to be a better writer, one that doesn’t just write about problems you can relate to, but can offer real solutions that have worked in my life.

Because I promise you, not keeping this promise, won’t bring anything good.