The promise.

I was on my way to climb the stairs of my flat back from work, when I bumped into something I wish I wouldn't see for the rest of my life.

I saw one man, old man, squatting at the end of alley that divides the flats, was eating something from a plastic. He seemed really hungry. I wanted to stop and ask him questions, but I was too sad, looking at him. I climbed the stairs as fast as I could, stormed the door, and cried on my pillow. That's too dramatic, but that's what happened.

I mean, he could be, he surely is someone's father. Why did that happen? He's like, in his late 70s. Someone's supposed to take care of him, give him love. He deserves that.

And now, I can't stop thinking about what will happen to my parents 20 years from now. Am I going to be a good daughter? Can I give enough love? Can I comfort them enough like the way they did to me? Can I make them happy?

I am scared. I am scared if later I can't or won't fulfill my responsibilities towards my parents.

I really am scared.

Nauzubillahiminzalik.