I’m buying promises

Somebody said an empty stomach is suffering. A full stomach is joy. Somebody said a life with no troubles is a good sign.

I remember the promises I heard from the pulpit. They spoke of perfect weather, infinite amounts of food, laughter all day long.

I bought it.

Don’t ask how much I bought it for, I’ll start crying.

Before I could even analyse, a politician came on a television as I saw it from outside the window of a neighbours house. He looked grown enough to be my granddad, well dressed. Trustworthy.

He promised a life of no crime. Free education. Free housing and more.

I bought it.

A magazine in my hand, had a little promise for me too. If I just bought this product, I’ll see beauty I had never seen before. I’d attract a certain kind of man. That if I just dress like this, the world would open its arms.

I was determined to make money one day and buy it.

School wouldn’t shut up about, if I just get good grades, something wonderful awaits me on the other side. That my grades were the answer to all that was bothering me. That being educated meant understanding life.

Bought it with all I had.

Even as an adult:manifestation. A whole world of possibilities that awaits. I could be a millionaire, I just need to really want it. That whatever I picture becomes true for me.

You and I are old enough to know some about life. The promises are just that.

I’m ok with that.

What keeps me up at night is how these engrained promises make everything painful. I’d rather be ready for the rain than wait for a sunny day. It is a terrible life, the life of waiting.

Waiting for something better and you give the little you have in hopes of a brighter tomorrow. Oh how sad when I realise yesterday was bright. I didn’t have to sell all I have, for a guaranteed tomorrow. I could have just been.

Thembeka