3 min
thoughtscommitmentself-reflection

the weight of small promises

i forgot my second post yesterday.

even though i only wanted to post at least once a day, i still tried to go for two. morning and night - like tending to a garden twice daily. but yesterday evening came and went, and... nothing.

so what now?

i feel something weird. i forgot about something i really tried to commit to. after i realized it, my mind just went empty.

you might think "wow you forgot a single post, it can't be that bad" - and rationally, you're right. but when i truly try to commit to something, i don't want to forget it and brush it over like it was nothing.

i still didn't break my main promise of posting at least once a day. but if that day would come, what would i feel? would i be relieved? would i feel terrible for breaking my own promise?

i don't know.

just thinking about it is weird. i started this garden just days ago and i'm already writing about thoughts like these. maybe that's beautiful. maybe that's terrifying.

there's something heavy about the promises we make to ourselves. they're often smaller than the ones we make to others, but somehow they carry this different kind of weight. when you disappoint someone else, you can apologize, explain, make it right. when you disappoint yourself...

the only witness is you. the only judge is you. the only one who has to live with it is you.

maybe that's why missing that second post feels bigger than it should. it's not really about the post - it's about the pattern. it's about whether i can trust myself to do what i say i'll do, even when no one else is watching.

especially when no one else is watching.

this garden is supposed to be proof that i was here, that these thoughts existed. but what happens when the gardener forgets to tend to it?

maybe that's part of the human experience too. maybe some days the garden gets a little neglected, and that's okay.

but i don't want to make a habit of it.

the promise stands: at least one thought a day. and maybe, just maybe, i'll try for two again tonight.

not because i have to. because i want to.

written in the quiet hours