I swore it was the last time.
I guess I was wrong.
I knew it wouldn’t be the last time.
There would always be a next time.
I was always going to do it again.
But I swore I wouldn’t.
I swore it to them.
To all of them.
Because I needed them to believe me.
They had to believe me.
That was the only way.
The only way for me to keep going.
But I was always going to do it again.
It’s who I am.
It’s who I always was.
And swearing was never going to change that.
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Categories: flash fiction