Trust me when I say you can’t trust anyone.
Two kinds of truth exist in the world: the truths you know and the truths you don’t know. We often deal with situations where we have all the relevant information we care to gather. The moments when we lack information forces us to rely on our ability to trust.
A symptom of Asperger syndrome is the inability to read social cues. It’s hard to act appropriately when you don’t know what’s going on. In my defense, people don’t make it easy.
I have no idea what people think of me. At the same time, no one knows what goes on in my head. The brain is a library of memories, dreams, opinions, and other bits of hidden information. Everyone you meet carries some secret tucked away in their lobes.
My friends and family remain mysteries to me. I don’t know much about them. How much can one possibly gather from pleasant conversation alone? I relied on hope as a child. The hope that things would become more clear with time. All my eyes can see is a thick fog before me.
The only thing about the future you can be certain of is change. Nothing stays the same forever. How can one know if the change will turn out good or bad?
“Everything will be alright.” I hear that all the time. Many people choose to focus on the positive when looking toward the future. I prefer to maintain a healthy degree of pessimism. You can’t prepare for the worst if you don’t think bad things will happen eventually.
Nothing in this world offends me save one; liars. To cover up a thing as beautiful as the truth is despicable beyond description.
Is it wrong to expect friends to tell the truth? I’m not asking anyone to divulge their darkest secrets. I just want my happiness to be built on something real and not an illusion. However, I can understand the desire to hide the truth. You can’t target what you can’t see.
Each person contains a piece of the truth. It is only when people are honest with one another that the truth becomes whole again.
Trust is borrowing another pair of eyes. A new perspective allows us to see the whole story from beyond our own view. I know a world exists beyond my own because I trust the stories people tell me.
I didn’t trust my friends when they met their future spouses. I should have been supportive and happy for them instead of worrying the whole time. So many people I didn’t let in because I didn’t believe anyone could be genuine. Not to me, at least. What does a trustworthy person even look like?