Mary Poppins said it best: "That's a pie crust promise; easily made, easily broken."

In thinking back on the things that have been promised to me, I have to wonder what promises aren't pie crust promises. I promise we'll always be friends. I promise I'll always be there for you. I promise I'll never hurt you. In the moment those are the greatest words to hear. They are a reassurance, an affirmation, and more than we can ever ask for. We hear things like this and we want so badly to believe they're true. We want to think that that old friend, best friend, lover, like-a-sister to us would never break their promise. We're too close, we have too much history. But what about when the moment is gone? What about when we are hurt, or when we're not friends, or when they're not there? The hurt of a broken promise is far greater than the comfort of the promise itself. And then there are the promises that are implied. The things that seem to go without saying. It hurts most when those are broken. And at some point you have to ask yourself, cliche as it is, when is enough enough? How many broken promises can you take before you're fed up. How angry and hurt do you have to be before you decide it's over. How bad does someone have to make you feel before you decide to walk away.

I've never been good with these questions. I've never wanted to face them. Not head on. And I've never wanted to commit to the answers. I've always wanted to believe in the promises and make excuses for when they were broken. I've wanted to believe that if the sentiment was there once it could be there again. I've wanted so many times to fight for what used to be or even just fight to keep someone in my life despite knowing that letting go was the best and only real solution. So at some long over due point, after going far too many rounds with myself and with someone else, there's no choice but to give up and move on. I feel like I've lost a fight and I hate to just give in, but sometimes I've just gotta bow out and cut my losses. It hurts and I hate it and I'm absolutely horrible at it, but it happens.

So then comes the big question: how much of the hurt and the bitterness do you hold on to; how much of the anger and mistrust gets put onto the next relationship, and the one after that, and the one after that. How much can you expect--or not expect as the case may be--how much can you compare and guard yourself from. I've never been good with these questions either. After each time I get myself into something that looks a bit sticky I think "not this time, not again." But so far most of those situations have gone from sticky to big giant mess, with absolutely no safeguards on my part. I believe the promises, I let my guard down, I give little parts of me away. I try not to hold my past issues with people against a new person. But things still seem to go bad. In the end I'm hurt and whatever sort of relationship that was there is over.

And then what?Someone got me thinking about what it takes to call someone a friend. He says it's gotten harder and harder to start calling someone a real friend. But for me the question is, what does it take to stop calling someone a friend? It's faster to say "My friend" instead of "This girl I had class with" or "this guy I used to know in high school." It's a term that's easy to throw around, and that might not be such a bad thing. Maybe we should consider more people friends at least on a surface level instead of just "this guy I talk to sometimes." But it's the people that you used to be close with where it gets tough. They used to be a best friend, they used to be so important and know ever story and every secret. They were the epitome of 'friend.' But now they're not. And knowing that they're not, it makes it harder to call them one. When you do call them a friend it stings ever so slightly as the words come out of your mouth and you try hard not to let your voice falter. But they used to be a friend, a good friend, and that still counts for something. So they get tucked away somewhere in the good memories and the really important ones still hold a special little place. You forget about the broken pie crusts and the hurt and hold on to what was good. And then along comes the next person whose promises you hope to believe in and the cycle continues. And then after a while the promises stop being broken and those unanswerable questions don't come up anymore. At least that's what I hope for.

(Funny thing... as I'm wrapping this up, BSB "10,000 Promises" started playing on my winamp. Heh. Go figure.)