To Trust (the great societal “you”)

I am not supposed to trust you.

I am not supposed to trust that you won’t throw me under the bus, or slam the door in my face, or whisper my secrets into unfriendly ears.

I am not to speak with you as though I believe in you. I am not supposed to think the best of you, though I am so inclined. I am not supposed to approach you with open arms, palms outstretched, offering of myself in ways that could end up hurting me. Because in the end, they say, you will hurt me.

Because I trust too easily and believe to deeply, and I can’t seem to grow out of the childhood naivety that tells me the world and its people are good.

I am not supposed to take you at face value, but I’m not supposed to look deeper than that.

I am supposed to protect my papier-mâché heart with brick walls that look strong, yet approachable. I am supposed to invite you into the antichamber of my mind, but no further. I am supposed to guard my soul, because it is so easily broken by my own aptitude for honest words to fast friends.

I am not supposed I trust you. And I have been burdened and burned and betrayed far too many times for that.

But that doesn’t mean that I won’t.

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