I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t believe that I could ever trust the world less than I already did, but I do now. “The world has teeth and it can bite you with them anytime it wants” – King, my hero when it comes to writing, said it best.
I feel like I’m drowning in a room full of air. I was never taught to believe in somebody or something. I don’t have trust issues because I had the rug pulled out from under me. I never had a rug. I feel like I have spent my life floating along like a scuba diver with just enough air. Riding the currents, rising towards the surface where there is light and air sometimes. Sinking into the dark, airless murk other times. But now, I feel like I have run out of air.
Trust is a fragile thing, earned through much difficulty and hard work, through time. It’s also easily broken, and when it’s broken, it’s usually shattered into a million pieces, almost impossible to rebuild. Taking longer each time, leaving damage that gets worse every single time it’s thrown to the ground.
I don’t trust many people, but right now I don’t feel like I can completely trust anyone. I want to. I do, but I feel like I got sucker punched in the chest yesterday. I was betrayed, lied to, dismissed, and then told I was too fragile for the truth.
Should I be outraged at that assessment of me? No. Am I fragile? Sometimes. The truth is because of my medical issues, stress and heartache physically cause me pain, so no – this was not a better option because my heart hurts right now. My heart is broken. And I hurt. Physically, mentally, emotionally.
I can’t breathe. I don’t have air -love and trust- to seep into me. To feed my soul. I can’t breathe