trust is never easy. it strips you of every article of clothing and leaves you like a tree in the middle of November. it leaves you empty of words and thoughts. and even though you are in the dark writing alone it is a committee of people staring at you. it is like a pair of s*** stained panties from when you had too much to drink the night before. s*** stained panties are easy. trust is harder. it is standing at the edge of a 20 story building before you trust the ones that claim to unconditionally love you. it is admitting that people have walked into you and have greedily stolen the things that were never on display. s*** stained panties is admitting that vodka is never going to touch your lips again. trust is admitting that for a sheer moment of naivete you let someone come in and throw a party where fear and resentment were the guests of honor. it is not fear of ownership or not being enough or being liked. it is the fear of disappointment. it is constantly fighting with yourself to never have expectations that will be proven wrong. it is the fear of feeling like you never knew what was going on. i try to lie to myself and say that the panties aren't mine, that this hurt and vulnerability does not exist. the s*** stained panties are easy to own because it is only me, and they are only panties. the pain and weakness are never easy because it rips me open and i am too ashamed to say that i cannot fix this part of myself on my own.