Aladdin asked the question as he beckoned Jasmine onto the magic carpet. Jack asked the same of Rose right as she was about to jump.
“Do you trust me?”
Four words. Probably the most difficult question four words can create.
You asked me once with your hands behind your back, and I said yes with my fingers crossed. Neither of us really knew how to trust at all.
And now we’re here with a lifetime of what-ifs and should-haves and whys, but I trusted you in all the ways I could. You wanted more than I had. You didn’t mean what you said when you said you could save me.
Someone asked me again today. “Don’t you trust me?” they joked as I tactfully criticized their argument.
I don’t trust you anymore. I don’t believe you.
“Sure I trust you,” I reply with a smile. “Of course I trust you.”
I used to believe you. You broke everything I am into a million tiny jagged pieces.
“I would never lie to you.”
You broke me and you swept me up and you tossed all my fragments into the garbage can. You never thought about me again. How dare you ask me to trust you.
It’s not you asking anymore, but it is. Because since you, the answer can never be yes.