Empty Living

Undoubtedly Doubtful

     One more time, one more  chance. I'll give them a chance, I'll give myself a chance. All so that in the end, I may give myself pain. 

      Time and time again I find myself at a crossroads of trust, which is in short supply within myself. I've never been keen on relying on anyone in my life, all I ever think of is what could possibly go wrong. As for the possibilities, the ones I think of are endless. People call me so very optimistic, but the thing is I am anything but when it comes to people themselves. Not once have I ever clawed out of my shell in a timely manner, not once have I met someone who I thought of as instantly trustworthy, not once have I truly trusted someone without regret. I wish I could say that I have to all of these things, but it has become second nature for me to always do a double-take and ponder what someone's true intentions may be, what lies are laced in with their words. Caution and suspicion are perpetually a part of my routine with others.

     Growing up I had little I could call reliable and such, most things in my life were sporadic and wild. The one thing that was seemingly a constant however seemed to be suffering, that never left me. This misery was often caused by what I believed to be one of two things, either myself, or someone else. As one can imagine, this led to me not having a great deal of confidence in neither myself nor other people, others in particular being in a rather steep valley of mistrust. With age, confidence in myself had grown while that in others had dwindled. People in general from my research are most molded in how they place their assurance in things through experience. Whether it be while growing they had accountable figures in their life or were always given the chance to do things and build credence for themselves, it accounts for much.

     I was not so fortunate. My parents babied me for a long time which certainly made me much less assured of myself for a long time. People were never all too present, I had a rather absent father and was very lonely going through childhood, so much so that I had no one I could consider staunch. While I learned independency through my lack of dependence, there's really been no reason for me to pursue something in which I would have to place my faith in the hands of another. Really, I have more reason not in contrast to to. The times where I have opened my heart and have taken a knee have all ended in tragedy, regret, and anguish. Back when I was young my prayers were never answered, I had thought wrong that someone had truly disappeared from my life, and recently, I was wrong to believe I could take someone for their word.

     Experience begets wisdom, and damn have I had experience. I grew out of being religious because those cries reached deaf ears. I became skeptic after the person I thought was gone kept coming back like a shadow. Now? I have become endlessly doubtful and apprehensive of everything and everyone in my life. It's far from healthy. This paranoia that consumes me feels to be a progressively creating a nearly adamantine cocoon for myself, one where I cannot even escape from. Even if I turned into a bodacious butterfly on the inside, I would not be able to liberate myself from my perennial fears which I now think and believe to be just. It feels like I am my own worst enemy because I am always the one who slashes at my throat the most dangerously. I want, no, I need something and someone that I can place unrestrained and doubtless trust in. I want to be able to trust without tears spilling shortly after. 

     To have something or someone which one can believe in without a single hesitant thought is a true luxury; when one is suspect, there is no warmth or comfort in such ludicrous idealism.