The idea of Trust over Time

HEY THERE,
I have been struggling with a issue for a long time
I experienced it a lot
I never speak to anyone and never let them know about it,
I wrote it,
It gave me a lot of trauma,
Even though i did not like dramas, i felt like it is affecting on my daily life,
its not a issue to ignore, its an issue to overcome
So, this docustory may provide you a solution you are searching for.

Trust has felt like a foreign concept to me. It’s a shadow that follows me everywhere, haunting every interaction, every new relationship. I’ve been afraid to trust anyone. I’ve been afraid of the hurt that comes with it. I watch people, trying to gauge their intentions, looking for signs that they’re just like the others who said they do care and then walked away.

I don’t let anyone in. Not fully. I keep people at a distance, close enough to feel comfortable, but not so close that I get hurt again. When they get too close, I pull away. I tell myself it’s the best for me . It’s easier this way. I won’t get hurt if I don’t let anyone see the real me.

But there’s always that part of me that wants to trust, wants to be cared, wants to loved and wants to be forever. That part of me that wants to believe that maybe, just maybe, someone could love me without leaving. I want to stop overthinking every word, every glance, every touch. I want to stop questioning whether they’re being genuine or if they’re just waiting for the right moment to disappear.

I watch people being loved, and I thank the Lord for that. It fills my heart with warmth to see others being treated with kindness, as they deserve. I started writing my thoughts— thoughts I never thought I could express to anyone. It’s not that I’m not loved. I have my mother and father, my friends who fill my life with joy. I cherish every moment. But when I close my door, when it’s just me and the silence, a quiet sadness settles in. I feel alone, like something is missing. And I wonder, why can’t I find happiness? Why do I struggle with it, even when everything seems right on the outside? Every year, I hear about people losing their lives, some of them for the very same reason, and I can’t help but feel the weight of it. I never want to be an option like that—lost to the world, unable to find my peace. I started reading books, losing myself in their pages, and writing down my thoughts every night. I didn’t want anyone to read or hear what I wrote, it was my truth, raw and unfiltered. Little by little, I found comfort in the solitude, in being alone. It felt like it was my life, my world, my moment to breathe. But then, one night, a question crept into my mind for the first time: “Is there anyone out there like me? Who thinks like me, talks like me, who truly understands me?” It’s true—our lives are never the same, not always. And then, just when I thought I had everything figured out, the people i seen struggling with the main problems made me pause, made me question my own decisions, made me wonder, for the first time, if my solitude was what I truly wanted, or if I was just running from something I didn’t understand.

I was afraid—afraid of the sight of people struggling on the streets, their faces worn by hunger and despair. I feared seeing the sick, battling diseases that robbed them of their strength, their hope slowly fading away with every breath. My heart broke for the innocent orphans, their eyes empty, seeking for love and care, never knowing the warmth of a mother's embrace or the comfort of love. I couldn’t forget the image of the doctor, standing over a lifeless body, powerless to change what was already written in the stars. The mother praying for her child in the hospital, clutching onto faith with everything she had left, as the machines beeped in a cruel rhythm. And then there was the teacher, standing in front of a classroom full of students, struggling to explain the meaning of life—when the world outside was too loud, too harsh, to allow them to even listen. I was afraid because these stories, these silent battles, were all around me. I couldn’t turn away from the pain, but I didn’t know how to bear it. I didn't know how to face the weight of all the suffering, knowing that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t save them all. I couldn’t fix everything. It made me feel so small, so powerless—like I was just one person in a world too big, too broken to heal.

And then, one quiet moment, it hit me like a wave. I realized that I had everything I ever wanted. A roof over my head, food to eat, a family who cared, friends who loved me. I had my health, my freedom, the ability to dream. And suddenly, the loneliness that had felt so suffocating, so all-consuming, seemed so small. Maybe feeling alone wasn't as heavy as I thought. Not when there were people out there who would give anything for a moment of peace, for the things I often took for granted.

In that moment, I understood that my struggles, as real as they were, didn’t compare to the pain others were enduring every single day. I was blessed. And that realization, though humbling, helped me find a sense of gratitude that I had been blind to. What I had was so much more than I had ever allowed myself to see.

I realized,
I let myself feel what it was like to be held without fear, without reservation. I know it will be a strange feeling, like I will float in a space where the walls I had built around my heart couldn’t reach. For the first time, I wasn’t scared of the tenderness, of being vulnerable. I allowed myself to trust, to feel presence without questioning it, without wondering when it would end. I could feel warmth, and for once, it didn’t burn. It soothed me. I wasn’t used to that.

Trust isn’t something that tends to happened overnight. It isn’t a card you can flip. It’s a slow but sure process, coming in small steps—those tiny moments when you feel ready to be open, only to shy away wondering whether it's worth the risk. But with this life I’ve learned, it’s okay to take those steps even when the fear is so overwhelming, and the past tries to pull you back into the darkness, and you find yourself guarding against the hurt. I realized it’s okay to let someone in, even when everything inside you screams to protect yourself from the possibility of pain.

The truth is, opening up feels like standing on the edge of a cliff, unsure of what’s below, yet something in me believed that maybe, just maybe, there will be safety in someone arms. That maybe, just maybe, I could believe in love again—real love, not the kind that disappears when things get tough. But the one who stays, and each step I took toward trusting again felt like a battle between the pain I had known and the hope I was learning to feel.

I’m still learning. Every single day, I’m learning to trust again. It’s not easy. Some days, the doubts creep in, whispering that it’s better to stay guarded, to stay in control. But on other days, I see the strength in peoples eyes, in the way they hold me when I falter, and I realize that maybe, just maybe, not everyone will leave. Maybe there are people who will stay, not because they have to, but because they want to. And maybe love isn’t something to fear—it’s something to embrace, to nurture, to give without hesitation. And its not about only love, but about those small moments that feel like a quiet blessing—a brief connection that touches your soul. It was that instant when, for no reason at all, you feel seen, as if the universe brought that person into your life just to remind you of something greater. Those little moments—when her presence, her words, her energy made you feel lucky to be there, even for a short while. It’s a kind of blessing that settles deep inside, not because it promises forever, but because it leaves you feeling like you’ve experienced something truly special. Like the universe was telling you, in that moment, that everything was exactly as it should be.

But it’s a journey. A slow one. Right now, I'm just taking things one step at a time. I'm learning to trust again, bit by bit, and with each step, I'm letting go of some fear. I’m not sure where this will take me, but I’m ready to keep going, no longer scared of what’s ahead. Maybe, for the first time, I’m learning to love without holding back. I’m learning to ove without reservations.

To anybody who is undergoing the suffering that I once bore, please hold on. I know it feels as though you are drowning, sure the weight of everything is just too much to bear but I swear there’s still hope. The darkness might seem endless, the loneliness overwhelming, and the doubts never-ending but I need you to know you’re not alone in this war even if it feels that way. Understand the storm inside your mind, battling to stay constant, to keep quiet the thoughts that shred you to pieces. I’ve been there. Step outside yourself for a moment and you’ll perhaps look beyond your own pain, only to see that there are many in the world who carry burdens far heavier than yours. Validation is not subtracted from your struggles, but it begins to give a little perspective on things. There are people out there waging wars of which you can’t even fathom an inkling—things with which you may never get in full touch. It does not discount your pain but reminds you that so many share your pain. You are not as alone as you feel. Mental health is no small issue. It’s an epidemic. There are so many, too many people dying everyday because they couldn’t find a way to hang on. It’s not easy, I know, but every time you choose to keep breathing, every time you decide to fight, you are doing it for yourself, for those who can’t anymore. I also write to you because the world has a hard time with what makes you unique and that you have to know your life has unspeakable value if you even read this post. You matter.

And in these dark times, Spend time with the people who need you, especially those who are fighting their own battles. Be there for them, because sometimes what somebody needs is somebody that gets them, somebody that is going to sit with them in silence and show them that they don’t have to go through it alone. You don’t have to have all the answers, you don’t need to fix anything—just be present, with an open heart, a compassionate ear, and a gentle spirit.

You have no idea how much just saying hello to someone who feels like they’re breaking could help. You don’t know how far it can heal, how much it can save. And when you share a little of yourself with someone else, you’ll start to notice that maybe, just maybe, there’s a little more light in the world than you had realized.

So hold on. You fight on, even when the weight is intolerable. You are still writing your story, and it’s not the end yet. And if you think you just can’t get through today, remember, you don’t have to go through it alone. Reach out. Seek help. Let someone in. Because even if your heart feels like it’s made of iron, there are people who will hold you as you are, wherever you are. There are people who loves you, who likes to care and the time may be as fair as you deserve.

trust the people
trust the timing
it heals everything,
it really do, i felt
Someone is living to see u happy all the day along, someone is praying for you,
So, stay and wait.
and U yeah U, matter the most<3