My first heartbreak was because of a friend. We were eleven years old, she started hating me for some reason (I think another girl told her mean things about me, she believed her) and we started fighting. As in, really fighting, with fists, tricks, trying to destruct each other. I even threw sand in her mailbox. Man, I was angry.
I'm 33 years old, now, and I'm as mad as I was then. A friend betrayed me, today. I told her some of my most inner thoughts and she thought it was just being honest to share them with others. Right. Sure. Honest. Honest my fucking arse. You don't tell other people's secrets. I know, I should be more careful, I shouln't trust people that easily, but hey, it's also what makes me special. I've learnt not to share too much with co-workers but I've been deceived quite a lot by so-called friends. And yet, I seem to make the same mistake again and again.
One thing I finally understood, tonight, is that I should go on like this. Because what I share with my friends is rare, precious, unique. What I should trust more, on the other hand, is my instincts. I tend to push them away too often, to tell myself "nah, you're just being over-cautious, of course he/she can be trusted". Well, turns out, my instincts are usually right.
That little voice that I've been trying so hard to keep quiet is now yelling, I'm having one of those re-birth things. Except mine has nothing to do with God, but with me. Instead of trusting others so easily, maybe I should try trusting myself. I think the timing's just right.
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