Of Trusting Almost Everything

I'm going to hang out with one of my ex-friends. Ex-sisters. We'd been falling apart much before February happened. In all truth, we probably should have never been friends, let alone almost sisters. And yet, we were. Funny how that works.

We hurt each other. I know what much. What was said and what was done, it's all equal measure. We were crappy sisters and friends until the lights went out and we hugged our pillows to our chests and texted our biggest worries to each other, and replied in the same fashion.

How does that change? How does a person change from day to night, two completely different people?

But when there was no one other to talk to, and even when there was, we'd turn to each other, because we somehow understood each other. We were too alike, you see. Fire and fire only causes a bigger fire.

And now I can't trust her. I haven't in months. I don't. And part of me doesn't want to. I want to seclude myself, cut myself off from anyone who would ever have the means to use everything I've said against me. Especially when it comes to certain people.

So why did I agree to hang out with her, though almost everything is screaming alarm?

Because, I think, it's the fact that it's only almost everything. It's not everything. There's something there that doesn't scream alarm. There's something bigger there than a person who I know wouldn't say a word has in my mind. I trust him less than this ex-sister of mine. And perhaps it's just sentimental. But late in the night when I text her "Do you remember..." and it all feels like it once did... Well...

 And I sum it up to something more heartless because when I think about the risk I'm taking for a bit of old-times sake, I get a bit anxious. A bit run run run away. I sum it up to this, which is no less true; I need to start trusting people more, and if I don't give someone a chance to choose whether to hurt me or help me, then I am stuck where I am.

And I'm a stray, looking for other strays.


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