The heart, honey, is unlike anything else. It sometimes splits and takes sides. The mind conspires along with the heart and paints exagerratedly beautiful versions of the past. The present then becomes a prison.
The heart gravitates towards what it interprets as affection. It cannot see right or wrong. The mind conspires along with the heart and justifies every move it makes.
The heart wants those places that appear in dreams – such dreams that make you feel like you have everything in the world that you ever wanted. The mind wants endorphins and nothing else.
Trust is resignation. It is a form of willingness to lose what matters the most to you. It is comparing all those failures from your past to what you have, and preparing yourself for the worst. There is no such thing called trust. If you claim to trust someone, you are probably hiding your inner battle. In my opinion, only losers trust. They trust and then they lose. Or they live in ignorant bliss.
As for me honey, I am vigilant. I would rather see which cliff I would fall over than be unpleasantly surprised. Trust kills like nothing else. It is the last blow you will ever remember.