I told myself I would write it.
I hear the muffled sounds of invisible cars, passing by in the darkness outside, Look-alike people drive look-alike machines that they sit inside. I sit alone, recalling empty words covering fearful or worse, nonexistent, feelings.
Listening to the genuinely empty sounds around me, I hear the echoes of unanswered calls, of friends who let friends down, of dates and meetings forgotten, of promises made without care.
I think, wandering my cares and fears, wondering if this is how others think of theirs. I'm trying to sort out the whys, hoping to find some sort of reason. I realize the risk and still the question remains to haunt me.
Where did the trust go?
Every voice around me seems bundled, tied, and locked inside a safety box. Each safety box is wrapped to look as if it’s not, as if it's invisible. The fear, the hiding is so sad. It hurts. It’s not right. It’s not good. Trust or fear weaves through every act. It filters their words, coloring the meanings. Words have wide eyes that look with yearning, spaces between them stare with hope. They beg, Can you see me? Can I trust you? Do you trust me? Will we trust each other?
Everywhere I go I see it. Trust is whispering its name. It interrupts our conversations. You said trust yesterday. Two more said it this week.
Where did the trust go? We had it. We shared it freely, boldly without fear, without secrets. Were we really that brave? Were we that naïve?
We were trustworthy.
We are trustworthy still. We can trust that we know just as we did then.
Take my trust. Take all you need.
I have plenty because without it, I can’t breathe.
−me strauss Letting me be