There are some promises that feel less like words and more like lifeboats. You don't examine them too closely. You don't test their seams. You simply climb inside and float. For years, I survived on promises. Not because people kept them. Because I believed them. Because somewhere deep inside me was a child who thought if someone said, "I'll be here," then surely they would be. I should have known better. Life had already taught me the pattern. The parent who promised safety.