I need to be done with this. It occurred to me earlier this morning that the relationship you and I shared has severely impaired my ability to trust, not only people, but their intentions.
I think back about our relationship and realize that on the one hand you gave me a glimpse of what devotion could feel like and what it felt like when someone wasn’t afraid to tell you they thought about you all the time, or what it felt like when someone loved all the things about you, good, bad and otherwise; you showed me comfort and I thought I was safe. I thought you were dependable, supportive, and trustworthy. Mostly, I thought you really wanted me to know what love was; what letting go felt like.
The reality is, you made a lot of empty promises and made me believe in something that wasn’t really there. You convinced me to open up, to let go, but there was no real substance; just a lot of words. I trusted you and that you were different and that you would take care of me; I was wrong. Even now I can’t say for sure what your real intentions were or if they changed over the course but I know they never materialized into anything more than that; intentions.
I thought I could find room for us to be friends but I know now there is the matter of trust; I don’t trust you anymore and I can’t be friends with someone I don’t trust. There are enough people in this world I need to second guess; my friends, the people I keep closest, shouldn’t be any of them. Opening up to you and trusting like I did has only hurt me. I thought it was only for the short term, the sting from acknowledging it would never work out between us, but I realize now it’s deeper than that. This has affected my long term and my perspective on love.
I may have just missed out on someone that was really good for me because I was so hung up on protecting myself rather than enjoying what it was. I second guessed everything about it because I didn’t trust that someone could actually have feelings for me without strings attached. I convinced myself that if it was good, it was a lie. If he liked me, it didn’t matter because in the end, there would be some reason I wouldn’t be good enough. There is no way for me to tell for sure.