Maybe we’re asking too much when we ask, “Can I trust you?”
We already know the answer. Deep down inside.
No one can be trusted. Not even ourselves.
So, why then, do we wager our happiness on the laurels of someone else’s virtue?
This romantic notion that a friend can be trusted with our life will burn our house down. Emptily staring at a pile of ashes, it remains a mystery as to why we still stoke our imagination with thoughts of a loved one falling on a knife for us.
We feel a fool when colleagues throw us under the bus even though we logically embrace the scientific notion of natural selection. Broken trust is organic, a reproduction of variants most likely to survive. Trust, the intact kind, is a wing and a prayer akin to religious fervor and blind faith.
Who do you trust and why?
Who do you mistrust and why?
Who did you trust with disappointment soon to follow?
Who surprised you with godlike loyalty when you’d always believed they were never to be trusted.
You’ll see, our expectations and predictions have little to do with the actual outcomes of our choice to trust another human.
In fact, you’ll observe that trust is an unruly concept tied up in the whims of man.
We want trust when we’re least likely to be trusted.
We trust. Blind all along to our own folly.
I’ve personally missed the best view my entire life, because I never wanted to sit with my back to the door.
Trust wasn’t a deserved gift to be given prior to my risk of being stabbed from behind.
But today, I see the sunset no one could have promised. I feel a breeze not set in motion by signing on the dotted line.
There’s no way to include enough details in a contract to protect us from ever getting hurt. Though this is what we try.
Legal action is never what we wanted. But it’s the best we could get. To have and to hold. Until death taught us we come into relationships alone.
Trust is meaningless when we’re near our last breath. Love is all that’s left.
And love exists all on its own, apart from the illusion we’ve created to replace the unconditional.