Introspections & Retrospections

Can I Trust You?

I ask myself. Each day, when you’re not around. Each time, when you’re near. Can I trust you?

It’s so easy, when you suddenly say hello. Yet it seems so hard, when the next words come out of you. Can I trust you?

The stories you make. The lies you tell. The beautiful half-memories and half-fantasies that interweave, are trapped in between them. Can I trust you?

And when the now ends, and I find myself alone with nothing but your promises without guarantees, when all that’s left is that lingering phantom sense of companionship, I wonder if it was all just imagination— just another daydream that escaped my longing soul.

How can I trust you?

I want to. No doubt about it: I madly, badly want to. To abandon reason and leave prudence behind. To be vulnerable, over and over again. I want to, but can I trust you?

How can I even trust myself: this me with all its love-prejudices, biased towards my affections? How can I trust my own mind, with its own inclination towards regrets and frustrations, wandering thoughts that aimlessly drift to your direction? How can I trust my own heart, with its predisposition to march recklessly to its own doom, following blindly its own erratic drumbeat— footfalls echoing of a pointless chase?

Tell me: can I trust you?

To trust you— with each word I spoke, that you would appreciate them for what they meant, not for what you understood.

To trust you— with each moment spent together, that you would find them as precious as I consider them.

To trust you— with each scar and their corresponding stories, and not reopen still-healing wounds instead.

To trust you— with each tear and sigh, and all other things too hard and complicated to express in cohesive simple sentences.

To trust you— with my doubts, my fears, my darkness and see beyond what my shadows hide.

To trust you— when I don’t have to, when everything and everyone warns against it, when instinct insists that it won’t end well, that nothing will change. That it would all lead to more disappointments.

I wish I can trust you. Because I know you too well. Yet even then, there’s still so much to learn about you.

I hope I can trust you. Because I believe in you too much. Yet even then, I wonder if you’re even trying any more.

But I know I can trust you. Because I was trusted, too— in spite of being a failure of various confidences. I was still trusted, even when I gave up on my own self, deemed myself unworthy of trust.

Yet even then, trust can never be unbroken, no matter how many shattered pieces we diligently try to collect. Trust can only be found again— growing, sometimes in unlikely places and times, with roots deeper and stronger. Trust that no longer crack so easily, or gets blown away with each whim; rather, a trust that remains steady, unmoved, unshaken.

So I ask: can I trust you?

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