Commitment

Nowadays almost everyone has something they’re committed to, whether it be their phone, their studies or their significant other. Everyone is committed to something.

For me it’s silver. Whether it be silver jewelry I wear, or the silver on the razor I used to shave, I love it. Over time the commitment to silver just slowly grows, it goes from the small piece of silver on my razor, to the small blade on my pencil sharpener, to the silver on the kitchen knives.

After a while my commitment slowly changed from the silver of the blade to the red lines it left, to the sting of my jeans rubbing against my thighs and even the pain of the shower water trickling down my skin.

I committed to the art I drew, each line representing a thought I had, ‘why can’t you get out of bed, how long has it been since you brushed your hair, they're disappointed in you, you shouldn’t be here.’ I committed to that feeling of emptiness and disappointment, I committed to the red paint that covered my skin, and stained my towel, I committed to the hopelessness and despair, and I committed to the fact that I couldn’t save myself from it.

I’ve committed to a lot of things but now looking back seeing how deeply I held onto those feelings I realized that maybe in the end, I have no idea what I'm committed to.