I like to think of myself as the kind of person who always keeps their promises in spite of all evidence to the contrary. I cannot think of a single promise I have ever kept in my entire life. Not to you. Not to me. Not to anyone. The kinds of promises I make are not tethered to anything material or immaterial. I would not even consider them to be promises. Maybe they are intentions, but if they are intentions, I had no intention of making them. They were unintended intentions that never blossomed into promises. That does not mean I am an ingenuous person. Or is it a disingenuous person? Hmmm. I’m not sure which is which. Maybe if I neither ingenuous or disingenuous, maybe this means I am not anything. And if I am not anything, is there any value, any worth to any of my promises?