Promises

At any time of the night, they might come. Through the glass of the window, or through the plaster of the wall and ceiling, each one floats in, transparent, ghostly. They enter without heed, unbeckoned, uninvited. They make no sound but the sounds I hear from my memories, emit no light but the visions I have kept within.

In the room, as I sit on the bed leaning against the headboard in the dark, I feel them coming before I even know. Even though each night they return, I am still surprised, for they vanished with the passing of slumber, drifting away as they came during my unconscious state, or perhaps simply vanishing slowly, becoming more and more transparent until they simply fade away from the perception of my consciousness. They are never invisible, but they are mostly unnoticed. Is there a difference?

And now that I have found my nightly place, my time to remove myself from this world, they return to anchor me, to hold my mind to the fabric of this reality. Each one fires out a little tether which binds onto me, keeping me here, keeping me here.

And when this happens I cannot hope but to remain here, for they are what brings motion to my body and mind, motivation to limbs puppet-like, determination for my soul's actions. For they are promises, promises which I need to keep, miles and miles yet to tread on this road, steps to be taken to reach my goals.

Promises encompassing everything. Following social order, following the law, following expectations. Promises for each hour of each day, for what I say and what I do. Promises that determine the person that I am. Doing what I have promised to do, being what I have promised to be, that is a promise as well.

The promises send out their little reminders as I lay there until I am wrapped from head to toe in promises, promises that lay claim to each bit of my being, smothering me until I can no longer stand to know the world, leaving me unconscious, asleep, until the following morning, when I rise to fulfill each and every promise.