Trust is Overrated

Time creates an illusion that things are getting back to normal, that life is stabilising, but for someone who has been through deep pain, time eventually breaks its own illusion. They remember what time came to teach them. And there are some lessons they’ve promised themselves they won’t ever forget.

<Cliché alert. But no one really listens. Clichés exist because they’re so prevalent, so true.>

One of those lessons is to trust their instincts. That gut feeling they had about someone years ago? It always shows up eventually, clear as day. It’s like something already written, a truth that slowly fades in like a scene from a film. And when it happens, they can either admire how beautifully their intuition played out or be shocked by how brutally accurate it was.

Another lesson that keeps coming back to them is how someone they’ve just met can stand by them more than someone they’ve known for years. And even that new person may not stay forever. But that’s not the point—nothing is forever. Everyone plays their part, and whether temporary or long-term, it doesn’t really matter. Everyone is going to die anyway, so maybe the bigger skill is learning how to let go without bitterness.

They’re not someone who believes in “once bitten, twice shy.” How can anyone live in so much fear? In reality, no one owns anybody or anything. Even after betrayals from family, friends, or people they’ve loved, they still choose to believe in redemption. They believe people can hurt them and still make it right—if they have any honour left. The onus is on the one who breaks the trust. It isn’t their job to hold guilt for someone else’s betrayal. If someone messes with the diamond that is their trust, that’s on them. They know exactly what that trust is worth. It’s an investment that only grows with time. And if someone chooses to throw it away, they’re the ones losing out on something that could’ve become gold.

Sure, they never forget—they have the memory of an elephant. They always remember how someone made them feel, whether it cracked their heart or filled it with joy or both. But they still believe it’s all worth it. They know you can never truly trust someone fully—people keep evolving or devolving, circumstances keep changing. Life is all about letting things go because, in the end, it’s no big deal if someone chooses to screw up. Now, they choose to look at everything with absolute clarity, asking: does this have anything to do with me? If the answer is no, they move on. People are flawed. That will never change, so why mourn the truths of life? They don’t have an answer to that—but they do wonder.

They’ve had moments of meeting someone and feeling as if they’ve known them before—something magical, something deep they can’t explain. It’s like feeling little stars colliding around them, forming a bond. And the same goes for a bond breaking. They know you can either grasp at straws or let it go. It’s not in anyone’s hands. Humans aren’t as powerful as they’d like to believe. Compared to the billions of galaxies around, they’re not even a dust particle.

They often question whether all of this is already written—whether free will is even real or if everyone is just playing out what was always supposed to happen. Is it really a choice, or are they only choosing the path they were always meant to take? Either way, they’ve decided to live with their heart open, take risks with love, trust their gut, and hold on to what life has tried to teach them. Because after everything, they still choose joy. They still choose love.