You’ll trust people and you won’t question their intentions because they seem pure and fun. You’ll them about everything you’re looking for, what you appreciate and what you hate and they’ll turn themselves into the person you wanted them to be. During all that time, you’ll be thinking it’s who they were in the first place. You will try to be that generous in sharing your self again. In a world of undefined truths and lies, you’ll struggle to recognize which parts were theirs to begin with, and which they stole from you.
You’ll try to remember what was it that you said. as it the tone you said it in, the look you gave when you did? You’ll never remember, there was nothing to remember in the first place. Bad people don’t need a trigger, they will actively seek and find evil anywhere, just as good people passively see beauty and virtue and goodness, in the little thing and in others and in the world. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault. It’s not your fault. Never will be.
“Tell them I was the warmest place you knew and you turned me cold.”
Well, shit, tried to, motherfucker.
♪ You said you’d die for me! Give to me, give to me! Why won’t you live for me?! ♪
You’ll remember them saying they’d do anything for you, however, when given the chance…
Them saying they’re willing to give you the world, however, unable to give you the only thing you ever wanted and asked for: the truth.
i can nourish myself on nothing but truth – Therese of Lisieux
A woman walking by is telling her friend, age doesn’t necessarily equal maturity. I agree. Maturity doesn’t necessarily just come with age either. If what you’ve built is based on lies, sooner or later, it’ll crumble in front of your eyes.
You’ll remember them asking if you liked how childlike they were. Thinking they were referring to the playfulness, the laughs, finding joy in the little things, living like there’s no tomorrow, that characterize kids, you’ll say yes, of course.
Later, you will find out they were referring to their fantasy reality, and asking if you enjoyed being there with them. A charming paper house the one they built, can’t live inside though.
Huge thanks to Natalie Patterson for being so open and vulnerable in her writing and work, inspiring me and thousands of others to do the same.