#mm008

"I don't know how you two haven't killed each other," she says with a shrug.

I said it's because we're the same person.

I know why you are the way you are, because your train of thought mirrors mine. Because we're drawn to the same things, cope with the same sarcasm, try our hardest not to impose our neuroses on others. And maybe that's all true now, but what got us there, what kept us from killing each other until we discovered this, was trust.

I go back to day one--really and truly--joking about being afraid but never able to understand why I told you all I did. All the truth that poured from me in the darkened room. Trust?

And counting all the hours after just that one, I still think I learned the most then. Before I even knew I wanted or needed to learn. Why am I still the only person who knows where you've been? Trust?

I hated the last month the most because I was undeserving of it. I clawed crescent-moons into my skin for their betrayals, unable to admit my own. I broke your trust. They broke your trust. Again. And again. And again. I carry the guilt knowing you'd carry it twice over if you knew.

It's not to say you're blameless. That silence, bystanding, and minimizing didn't make my blood boil and trust disintegrate. Again. And again. And again.

Perhaps that first day was the only one we were worthy of each other's trust. The temporary purity of no history, no future, just a good judge of character.

Trust.