I am far too easily disillusioned for someone of my advanced age. In order to be so easily (and frequently) disillusioned, surely I must still be clinging to a great many illusions. Allegedly, with age comes wisdom; theoretically, with maturity comes a diminished capacity to be deeply disappointed in the state of the world. Shouldn't I at least have developed more reasonable expectations and a better sense of reality by this stage of the game?
Alas, I am still far too routinely stunned and appalled and just generally outraged by the behavior of my fellow human beings (and sometimes even myself) and I chalk that up to my stubbornly persistent immaturity.
In a twenty-four year old, a certain degree of naïveté can be sweet and charming. In a forty-four year old, it's mostly just pathetic.
It’s Just A Story
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