It seems to be a recurring theme in my life lately. Trust. Having it, earning it, maintaining it, relying on it, expecting it, wanting it…. it never used to be such a big deal. Never used to be something I was all that conscious about. But somehow over the past couple of years, it has started to play a defining role in way too many things, it seems. And apparently the recent trials and tribulations with life in general have left me somewhat bitter and battered on this front. Once bitten and all that.

Love is as ever a double-edged sword, and if I have felt that more accutely recently than I usually do, I am sure there are good reasons for it. I am sure I have dealt as many blows as I have landed. And even if it has ruffled me up somewhat I take it as no small wonder that I am still willing and able to trust and be trusted. A wonder because I normally would have fled the scene and launched a cunning counter-stike ambush somewhere from a safe distance.

I don't want to do that. I don't want to be like that. Maybe I did once when it served whatever purpose of keeping me safe, but that was then and this is now. Totally different. And I thought I had a handle on it… I thought I was capable of holding my own with it.

Yet when I was sat in and asked to trust a machine – the very kind that got my brother killed – I buckled. It was too much. I didn't have that trust to give. Not to myself, not to the knots and bolts and not to the poor confused guy trying to make a living from showing people like me how mankind dominates machines.

On any other day I would like to venture the hope that I would have been reasonable enough to not react like this. I mean for gods' sake… I could have walked faster than I had that thing rolling, and actually the instructor did that very thing… but it was too much still. Too much to encompass all at once. Too many stabs at the same gash.

I don't know whether I chickened out or did the smart thing by giving up and setting up a new attempt. I will know that come saturday. But if for no other reason the poorly hidden amusement I was met with at home would be grounds enough to toughen up and just grit my teeth to get through it. Misplaced trust perhaps to expect differently…

… but then, my track-record with trust really isn't all that impressive anyway lately… so I probably shouldn't be surprised. Right now, there is a hell of a lot to be said for walls, draw-bridges and little dark spaces…


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