Time

How do you know?

Because you feel sure.

What if you’ve felt sure a thousand times before and every single fucking time you’re wrong?

I’ve had a life that I’ve known a lot of faces. There’s a reason that I’m terrible with names. I’ve had so many people trespass into my life, take my trust and show me how terrible I am at judging a person. I’ve had family come and go, toss me aside like I’ve never shared DNA with them. I’ve lost count of the friends I’ve made, to only realise once again, I was wrong in judging a persons character. The worst was him though. I thought I had gotten it right. Put my faith into one human. Trusted this individual with my soul. What a colossal fuck up. For someone that tries their best to avoid the ripping feeling in their chest, the all over despair, the crushing weight of gloom that eclipses you when you lose a person. I seem to be also addicted to the feeling of loss.

Then what happens when the opportunity comes to trusting a new person?

My chest locked up, I felt the weight of each pain in my past on my chest and arms. My throat tightened and I felt light headed. How did I get to the point of a physical reaction to trusting a new person? My past is unavoidable and consistently proven inconvenient to life. Succumbing to the statistics attached to a person in my case is not a fate I’d like to face. When someone like me finds someone good, they inevitably destroy the relationship systematically because a healthy relationship is too alien for them to understand.

I know the years of therapy in front of me to learn how to love myself and allow others in. Why didn’t time know this?

Fuck.