When someone tells me something – something personal, or sensitive, I store it away in my heart. I take it and hold it close, not sharing it if I truly care about them because they trusted me. Perhaps I’m not trustworthy, but when something matters, I keep it.
There are some beautiful, brave people in this world who I would have never discovered if they hadn’t told me things. Because of that, I know what trust feels like – to be trusted, and to trust. It’s a funny word, that; laden with so much meaning but thrown away so easily. In itself, it’s always meant a lot to me, because it’s the one thing I can keep and that I can solidly say is something I am. Trusted.
When someone tells you something, to me, it means the world. I know just that little bit more about them, something that adds up to a part of their personality. I ask myself, “How important is this?” Even so, I don’t tell when I promise them I won’t, unless something awful happens regarding it or I hate them so much that keeping that secret, or trust, will hurt me in the long run. That’s a terrible way of doing things, but I know that for the huge things, I’m reliable.
Sophie said that once you understand someone, they have a funny way of making it into your heart. That’s the thing, for me, that really struck home, because she’s incredibly right. Now I think on it, all the things people have told me – little or serious – have helped me to understand them. From then on, I know what shapes their personality. That might sound strange, but by understanding them, they’ve taken a tiny piece of my heart without knowing and imbued it with what they’ve gone through.
Whenever I’m trusted, it means that little bit more to me, which is why I get so incredibly upset when people break my trust – or even when I break other people’s. It feels like a betrayal, because I understand them and they understand me (trust goes both ways, after all).
A specific example? There is something I know about Ash, something that breaks my heart whenever I think about it. Despite hating him for so many things, and having a year of stored up hurt, I still can’t hate him fully, because I understand a little of why he does things. It doesn’t excuse anything at all and is only a root cause for other things, and it seems detrimental for me to think about it, but still: he trusted me. To break that trust, especially now, would be vindictive, even though he wouldn’t give a royal shit. I know I harp on about it a lot, but through him, I knew what it was to understand people and it’s helped me to form the most unlikely friendships. I don’t regret that.
Even when I hate people, I can understand them. Through them sharing something from their life, they open up their heart and if I’m there, I would never abuse that because that would be more than cruel.
I’m not a saint; I’m far from it. I’ve done shitty things to shitty people, and I know it. But at least I have something to hold onto.
I have the capacity to understand people, and it’s one of the only things I truly like about myself. Sometimes I get emotional, especially when my friends – or someone I hadn’t considered a friend – tell me something which means a lot to them, or something that they’ve kept inside.
They might not like me, but at least I can say that I hold – and don’t throw away – a little piece of their heart.
That’s just a thought process for you. I wonder – do you feel the same? When you find something out about someone, does it help you understand them more?
Also, if you haven’t checked out Sophie’s blog already, you really should – I found her today and she’s great!
From Elm 🙂