"Trust Me."

[Reference to self harm/eating disorders]

trust

/trʌst/

noun

reliance on and confidence in the truth, worth, reliability etc. of a person or thing.

synonyms: certainty, belief, faith.

antonyms: distrust, mistrust, skepticism

Trust is a funny concept.

It's like you cover yourself in gasoline and hand people a lighter and hope they don't set you on fire. Why? Because you trust them not to.

You place every ounce of your trust in someone, and you know . . . you know that by doing that you're bound to get hurt.

You tell them about your fears, insecurities, and dreams and hope that they don't use it against you and that they trust you too, and you matter to them and maybe it's too much to ask for, a part of you hopes that they'll be there for you always. Always.

And sometimes they stay. They stay there for the rest of your life, and you smile fondly and think, God, what did I do to deserve them?

But sometimes — most times — they don't. These people you put before everyone else, these people you love above everyone else.

You trust them with your life and they're the ones who push you over the edge and you think, how could I have been so stupid? Because it was there, it was always there — the fact that you don't mean much to them, but it's only now that you see that the signs had always been there, and you had been so oblivious, and it's only now it's clear but . . . it's too late.

It's too late because now they've hurt you, broken you.

It's too late now.

- - -

I was crying, and everyone could see me, and I couldn't care less. Or maybe I did. And that was probably the reason I ran to the girls bathroom.

Or maybe it was because couldn't take in everyone looking at me like I was some sort of animal in a zoo.

I wanted to run away and never, ever come back.

I rested my hand on the cubicle wall, sighing as I let the tears fall.

I'd trusted her. I'd trusted her more than everyone else and she just . . .

It hurt, hurt so much.

I felt stupid.

Stupid for believing her every time she said she would be there.

She knew me, knew me like the back of her hand, and I thought I knew her too, but it seems like I was wrong because never in a million years would I have thought she'd do this.

I remember walking into class, and everyone was looking at me, which was weird because I wasn't very popular.

I walked to my seat and then Sarah walked up to me and said, "You cut, don't you?"

And I think my eyes widened and I looked at my arm. There was no way someone could've seen — no.

I expected Lea to jump to my defense, and glare at them and tell them to go away or something because I would've done the that in a similar situation, and my eyes scanned the room for her, except she was just smirking at me, arms crossed.

She wouldn't have told anyone, there was no way. She wouldn't do that. We were best friends. Or were we?

She walked up to me, then, and said, "Everybody knows your dirty little secret, how does this feel?"