is one of those things that always comes as a surprise.
I’ve experienced it more times than I can count, and it never hurts any less than the first time.
I lost a friend.
Someone who saw the world in a similar way and had thoughts aligned with mine.
A soulmate, so to speak.
In my mind, a good and trusted friend.
I was, however, in the end, too much for them.
Too manic, too bipolar, too everything.
I want so badly to dislike them, to hold them to blame.
But the fault is mine.
I hoped for understanding and yet received ridicule and even more hurtful, harsh words that pierced my heart.
I didn’t expect this.
I was blindsided by pretense.
The purpose I am still not certain of.
The loss of that shattered me, but again, I take responsibility.
I will be, in the future, much less trusting.
It is a step back, yes, but a reminder that just because someone says something, doesn’t make it true.
I am trying to survive in an unfamiliar world.
There was a time when I would have done anything, up to and including, giving my life for them
Now, I wonder if would even spit on them if they were on fire.
I probably would.
My heart is broken, my spirit is wounded, but I have been here before and survived.
I will survive this, as well.
I am, on my best days, somewhat unstable.
I don’t know why I keep expecting people who don’t know me to accept that.
Then again, yes, I do.
I’m am a Sagittarian optimist.
People will always take advantage of me because, whether they deserve it or not, I will trust them.
Some folks are Davids, and that is nothing anyone should ever aspire to be.
I trust everyone with everything. I wish I didn’t.