Will I be able to trust? Trust in way that fills secure, legit and safe. Trust in a way that I know I won’t get betrayed. Wouldn’t that be the nicest feeling ever? Trust is for the naive, for the ones who never had their hearts broken, for the ones who haven’t been stabbed in the back by the ones they would die for! Trust is expensive. The price of trust is undeniable loyalty over a span of time. Trust is not something that’s given away to someone just because they are an expert. How do we measure trust? Is it a bank account that people make deposits to and balance out the checkbook. Is it something given to someone because they seemed like they know what the hardships of life are and surely won’t ever make someone go through the same hell they once went before. But, Ah! Don’t make this mistake my friend. It will fuck you over. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust anyone again. Ever. I mean in a romantic sense as well as friendships. Is it better when we don’t expect much from people? But what about our sense of community? A good community makes us feel safe, makes us feel wanted. It’s good for our immune system. Always keeping people at a distance can be tiring. Seems like it’s more work than necessary. I trusted her and she betrayed me. She wanted to betray me. It still hurts. Will I ever get over it? What will the over it phase look like? When I don’t think of it anymore or if I do think about it, it doesn’t bother me? What does it look like??? I guess it depends on the betrayal. The ultimate kind, the worst kind, the kind where you get panic attacks at night and your heart is racing so fast you can’t sleep because you’re scared. That kind of betrayal. How long to get over that. I have to make a decision to not give a fuck. If my heart sinks every time I think about it then the alternative would be to not give a fuck anymore. To accept that people who betray are miserable bastards who nobody pays attention to. They’re not the ones who are loved, nor do they feel any kind of love. They’re the ones who are depressed and hate their misery, as well as their existence. They hate themselves and they want everyone to hate themselves too. Something about that makes them feel better. I never understood it. And I never will. And somehow it’s supposed to make sense to me so that I could move on past it. I’m afraid I never will.