We got ripped off.
As kids, everyone was telling us that we’d understand when we got older.
Sure, I understand some more delicate things that kid brains don’t, but life in general? It’s gotten fuzzier, more complicated.
More vague, less defined.
The older I get, the more I’m exposed to, the more I experience – the more confusion rolls in with fogs of doubt and shades of grey.
I thought we’d make sense of things. Make sense of ourselves.
I feel like it’s the opposite.
Now, I just feel lost.
In the world and when it comes to my sense of identity.
Is there a tipping point?
Do I simply need to get older?
Or is it truly a lie?
I think I may have just sniffed out some naive hope. That that tipping point will hit, I’ll come out the other side with some sense of what’s what.
Or perhaps there is no defining moment. No quota of life lived to unlock an inner sense of stability and knowing.
Maybe I have to figure this out, define myself for myself. Scrape away all the dead skin cells of pain and brainwashing and unhealthy neural pathways – and keep rebuilding.
But when will I stop feeling lost?