promises

Disappointment is one of the worst feelings I can experience. It usually stems from high expectations and broken promises. A promise can be defined as a declaration assuring that a person will or will not do something, to afford a basis for expectation, or just a hint that something favourable may come.

I always make promises to myself to remind myself to do certain things. It's a way of setting the bar higher, and if I fail to meet my own promises, I let myself down. When someone promises me something, I expect them to follow through. If they fail to deliver, I will definitely be disappointed. I've learned that people can and will let you down. Some take my trust for granted and make empty promises just to shut me up, or they make promises as a form of trading. All of my ex-boyfriends promised that they'd love me forever; I guess that promise had an expiry date I wasn't aware of.

Many of us make promises to God to act in certain ways if He'll grant our requests. Do you realise these promises are often driven by selfish motives, rather than a desire to please God or improve ourselves? It's tough to be good all the time and to make unselfish prayers, but if these wishes are driven by genuine purposes, God has promised He will answer them, and His promises are never broken.

no glove, no love

It was windy yesterday. Every time I feel that familiar gentle cold breeze wash over my face, I reminisce about my senior school days. We waved farewell to an all-girls environment and moved to a new school to merge with the boys next door.

The hideous aqua plaid uniforms that resembled tablecloths were packed away to make room for the freshly ironed, somewhat sleeker grey checkered skirts and blue blouses. Blue socks, big meadows, jammed lockers, Hot Raymond in 3 Unit Maths, and pizza pockets all come to mind whenever I recall the first day of 11th grade. We were juvenile, full of life, and ready to begin a new chapter in our academic journey.

A classmate managed to hack into my combination lock and stole my locker; the little punk and I took turns moving each other's things to and from our lockers when the other wasn’t in sight. That was some high-class flirting technique right there. We were labelled as a married couple because of the daily quarrels, so needless to say, we became the best of friends. He carried my bag and books for me, we exchanged letters during class, I copied his homework, fell asleep on his shoulder during Physics, and he even lent me his blazer since I always forgot mine. We shared his gloves, one each because he didn't love me enough to give me both. Talk about selfish. I guess frostbite wasn't his favourite thing in the world.