Today, I found myself contemplating the concept of trust, particularly trust in people. Recently, I’ve been grappling with a noticeable lack of trust in others, accompanied by a general distaste for people. It’s not hate I’ve never truly hated anyone or anything, and it’s unlikely that I ever will. But this mistrust has made me question its origins and impact on my relationships. Where does it come from? What are its roots?
On reflecting deeply, I believe it stems from a recurring theme in my life: “People have failed me.” This belief, reinforced by experience, has shaped my inability to form deep and meaningful connections. Ironically, my natural instinct is to approach people with an open heart. But over time, I feel this openness has been misunderstood, unreciprocated, and even dismissed.
Let me delve into my journey to better illustrate this point, starting with my romantic experiences. Up until the 12th grade, I was a typical boy, confident in approaching women, and flirting even if I faced constant rejection. This felt normal. However, during my first and second year of bachelor’s studies, I explored spirituality and philosophy. These pursuits made me more aware of the shallowness in people, leading me to stop approaching them as freely as I once did. Yet, despite this newfound perspective, I experienced my first serious love interest in my second year of college.
After three years of quietly nurturing this affection, I finally proposed at the end of my bachelor’s degree. The response? Laughter. That single moment shattered my interest in people and marked the beginning of a dark phase in my life. In the aftermath, I dissected every interaction in that relationship, analyzing each moment frame by frame. While this process helped me understand the psychological nuances of human behaviour, it also deepened my distaste for people. Yet, despite this growing cynicism, I continued to approach others with an open heart, refusing to let my learnings cloud my day-to-day interactions.
During my master’s program, I decided to give love another shot. A second romantic interest emerged, but this too ended in failure, leaving me with toxicity and anger. What’s striking is that I applied all the lessons from my first experience to the second, but it yielded the same outcome. This pattern wasn’t limited to romantic relationships either. I began to notice it in every sphere of my life. Whenever I expressed vulnerability be it with parents, friends, or love interests the response was often a metaphorical “Fuck off” or a middle finger. The support I hoped for was absent, and it seemed that no one genuinely cared. Yet, there I was, offering my heart openly to anyone and everyone.
When I transitioned into professional life, my distrust of people only deepened. Over the years, my understanding of human behaviour expanded. I became more empathetic, more perceptive, and arguably more skilled at navigating social interactions. To the outside world, I might even appear to be “good with people.” But beneath this external façade lies a profound dislike for people. I’ve come to believe that this distaste is the foundation of my mistrust of others.
And so, each day I step out into the world with an open heart, hopelessly hopeful. I long for the day when I might encounter someone who can restore, even partially, my faith in people. Until then, I continue to navigate life with a blend of understanding, scepticism, and guarded optimism, forever trying to reconcile my natural openness with the reality of human nature.