Automatic Eyes

'Lies only work when they trust you.'

Trust is a mistake. 

It doesn't even exist. It's a lie we tell ourselves to calm the nerves that become desperate for relief. A light drug we take that relaxes our minds, allowing us to think that things will be fine, that people don't lie. But that's the thing with drugs, isn't it? They're addictive.

So we gladly stroll on the tightropes of optimism, treading gently above the disappointment that lurks way below if we ever were to fall. We'll smile to ourselves giddily, either due to the lack of oxygen at such heights, or the fact that we still assume that others don't take advantage of our trust. Probably the latter. We don't notice the games people play with our trust, the ones played so freely behind our backs. Not at first, at least. Sooner or later we turn around though. Sooner or later, we see. The shock of it causes us to lose our footing, and our perfect balance drawn from the ignorance of belief vanishes. We fall. 

And all the trust that was spent on them now seems worthless, like loose change lost in the labyrinth of streets and alleys that frame the steps we take. Forgotten, as the spoken words of promises so usually are. Forgotten, also, like those promises that never really made it. Because people forget. Grudges are so hard to hold onto, no matter how hard we don't want to let go of the resentment that reminds us not to trust again. We'll forgive. 
And the cycle repeats. 

'Chicago is so two years ago.'


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