Friend...?

Until today, I used to think I knew what that word meant. I used it guardedly. I had acquaintences, associates, but in my adult life, very few true friends. I've always done my best to be true to whatever friendships I have made, and to not betray the trust that have been made or given. Betrayal of trust is a big thing to me, friendship is a big thing to me. It always has been. So when someone betrays my trust, it not only hurts, it angers me. What gives them the right to do so? How can someone be so callous, as to take what you have given them, and throw it away like so much trash?  It used to be, you made friendships that lasted a lifetime. People you knew since childhood, your teenage years, and into adulthood, then on... You had associates you met at work, that turned out to be pretty damned good friends, and some that were just that, work friends. Some you could trust as brothers and sisters, and some, well, some were just that...an associate. Nonetheless, The word "Friend" has a special meaning in any language. Amigo, bro, amiga, buddy, pal, ally, collegue, comrade, tovarishch, 'ami, mate, any way you slice it, it means trust. Or so I thought. How naive. But then I've always been a child at heart. Trusting in the true nature of people. Never truly believing that cynisism inside, that I had to guard my heart. That no one could ever truly be trusted. No matter how good they seem to be. Betrayal, ain't it a bitch. Just when you think you have everything figured out, life tosses another lemon your way. Maybe my mother was right all along, you never can trust anyone but yourself, and friends will always let you down. I never wanted to believe that, but tonight, mom, your words rang truer than a church bell on Sunday morning. And my heart is breaking because of it...and I have to spend the rest of my days looking over my shoulder. Damn...

Peace out...