They say promises should never be broken. Because they hold so much hope that keeps most people sane. There is a promise in everything, the biggest of, all for some, being life after death. Not everyone knows this plainly though. But it’s not what I was saying. Promises are almost close to sacred. But what happens when you can’t keep the promises you made to yourself. During those drowning moments and you swore it would never happen again. You looked into yourself, deep down your soul or whatever’s under there and said, “Never Again.” You even curved it into your heart with the blood it shed for the painful reasons it did. Did all the rituals in your head and even risked the belief in some sort of God. Hopefully, He’d protect you from that. How ironic.
What happens when it’s the vicious circle all again? And the recurring events do not even serve as some sort of warning that soon, you’ll be free falling in agony once again. Just like all the other times. You see the spikes ahead that mock you with smug faces and pity, they know you are coming anyway. What happens when you are even too weak to control your mind, let alone the wild nightmare that is your heart? Even your subconscious just lays in its den, helpless and beaten, tired and drained of sending you all the warning shots it does.
You are too young to live this way and all these are games that you shouldn’t play but there are rules and you are not setting them. You don’t even know what winning entails, but failure is almost certain. Because you can feel it, you don’t know what it is because you haven’t ever felt it before but it sure can’t be winning if you’re falling apart and scattering away in the winds of the game.
What happens then?
You die. That’s what happens. Little by little inside of you, the old and the new, everything you struggled so hard to rebuild fades and withers like it’s made of residue ash, held together by the thin thread that’s your resolve.