2 May 2011

I have trusted you for two long years. I have taken your words at face value; I have put them in little frames and hung them on my wall. They are 2-dimensional; they are what I have started with. I have not had any reason to doubt their reality; I have not had any reason to find them imperfect or unbeautiful.

And yet, it’s ironic that those very words, although they were not to me, were able to shatter my vision. They are able to break my thoughts in half and cut into my mind like a knife to a hardened, violated heart. I never claim to have lied, although I know I have; but I never expected you to do the same.

It’s not selfish of me to have these expectations. It’s not unrealistic to think that I could have forgotten all of the past trespasses to my heart that others have made. It’s not unrealistic to think that I did and still find love once again. But even the simplest love is laid on the foundations of trust. I have loved because I have trusted. I have been hurt because I have trusted--you.

But I’m not sure. And I want proof. And you aren’t willing to give it, and my logic just takes over and psychology and sociology and everything that I’ve ever known to be true about other people seems to make all of these years into white lies, untold stories of nights and days and notes and messages to a whim. Something that only you understand. Something that I cannot understand because you will not let me.

So I beg you. I hold steadfast, though. I will not lose my dignity again, not to something that I know to be right.

sometimes I wish I had never met you.

Beyond all self-righteousness holds an evident truth that there is a full picture in a glimpse. There is always truth behind a suspicion. I try, trying to sort through the suspicions myself; but without truth, there is no resolution. There is no happy ending. There is naught.