I bought myself a new promise ring today.
I lost my old one about a year and half ago, both spiritually and physically. To be honest, the fact that it went missing was sort of a relief, I never truly believed in what my mother said it stood for and I just wore it to please her.
I don’t know if it’s the jazz I’ve been listening to or the cherry blossoms popping up but either way lately I’ve been thinking a lot about the idea of romance. And I know this is silly to say but I think boys ruined it along time ago for me, not intentionally but tenderly. They bought me daisies, called me sweetheart, kissed me in snowstorms… And I let myself believe that was love.
I don’t regret it, we all are young and wonderstruck a few times, it is not a fault.
But now I’m 21 and all the sudden I’ve realized I’ve never been truly romantic with myself.
So this is the new promise.
This ring is not dedicated to “staying pure” because heaven knows that is long gone.
It is not a place holder for my future partner.
This ring is a reminder that I can be nice to myself, I can compliment myself, and I can kiss myself.
It is dinner, rooftop wine, and canal walks all by myself, that’s this ring.