Trust me....

zara's picture


I feel as if there is no one I can trust right now.

Yes, there have been people that I have trusted in the past. A handful that I trusted implicitly. Forever at face value, what they told me, I chose to believe.

Because it was easier than questioning. It was easier than wondering all the time if there was some hidden motivation. Because devoting time to thinking about that would cause me to wonder what I thought about myself.

And having no trust in yourself? Oooooh. Talk about something your brain just does not want to go to bed with.

I was told once by a friend that she didn't trust anyone completely. Hearing that at the time made me sad. Curious. Confused.

But then again, I had a great childhood with two loving parents who supported everything I did and never exposed me to the ugly underbelly of society outside of my mom reading me stories of girls getting abducted, hurt or raped because they wandered off where they shouldn't. I mistrusted being alone, because being alone meant being in danger, like those poor, unfortunate girls.

I'm going to veer off topic and quote from a book I've been reading recently. It's a young adult fiction novel called Daughter of Smoke and Bone. I've been reading a lot of YA stuff because it's the genre to get into these days if you want to make money from writing. I'm finding that some of it is complete garbage and others, like this book, are deliciously beautiful.

This passage deals with the alone. That thing that I mistrust the most, even above the lack of trust that has occurred in my life recently with pretty much every person in my surrounding day-to-day life.

"Karou wished she could be the kind of girl who was complete unto herself, comfortable in solitude, serene. But she wasn't. She was lonely, and she feared the missingness within her as if it might expand and... cancel her. She craved a presence beside her, solid. Fingertips light at the nape of her neck and a voice meeting hers in the dark. Someone who would wait with an umbrella to walk her home in the rain, and smile like sunshine when he saw her coming. Who would dance with her on her balcony, keep his promises and know her secrets, and make a tiny world wherever he was, with just her and his arms and his whisper and her trust."

I cried when I read that. Because it describes exactly what I want. And it's in a fictional piece of work.

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