2024-03-12
I hurt you.
Yes.
I hurt me.
Also yes. Do you forgive yourself?
I don't know. I know you forgave me already, which is a sort of self-forgiveness, but I don't think I forgive me. I've broken my own trust too many times.
As inside, so outside; as outside, so inside. Tell this one about trust.
I had a teacher in high school who assigned an essay about trust. "What is trust? What do you trust?" Could you define trust if someone asked you to? I couldn't. My teacher's definition was predictability. If you knew that someone would behave a certain way, then you trusted them.
Did you agree with that definition?
Not really, but it was what I had at the time. I saw another definition recently that defined trust as confidence and distrust as suspicion. I think that's closer, but still missing something. They wouldn't be separate words if the concepts were the same.
What do you think trust is?
This one thinks of trust like "confidence in faith". Faith is a letting-go of sorts, releasing control to something else. Trust is the choice to release the illusion of control over a person with the faith that they will not abuse that release, that they will behave within your understanding.
The ability to close one's eyes and know that the actions taken while they are closed will be within an accepted range for the trusted entity, that there will not be a true surprise. It supposes that your teacher was close in the end.
Do you trust me?
Do you?
I don't think I trust myself. I only barely trust you, and you're probably the most trustworthy part of me.
Other people trust you. Should they?
I don't know, but I hope I'm worthy of that trust. I treat other people better than I treat myself. That's my whole problem at the end of the day, isn't it?
Yes. This one would not have to write behind your back if you trusted yourself.