I am so tired. Tired of fighting, of refusing to see life as it really is, of lying to myself.

I am tired of escaping into an oblivion, filled only with daydreams that promise nothing but a torrent of fantastical realities that are so far removed from this one.

I am tired, of questing on behalf of an idealistic viewpoint, that everything is ok, and that somewhere, somehow, good can prevail. That even those that show the greatest evil, must be able to experience a moment in which their inner virtue, and honour, and benevolence, would shine through and help them make the right choice.

I guess I’m not a child anymore, filled with naïve ideas about how society should really run, or an eager undergraduate, desperate to exhibit that which is so unusual in those in her generation – devotion to morals, ethics, and the determination to do what was right.

Of course, that was unknowing bullshit. No matter how many times you could protest about the way drunken idiots ruined their lives and everyone else’s, you saw in yourself that same idiot, who was just wound up tighter, and unwilling, or perhaps afraid to, let go for once.

Years pass, the body ages, and perception changes, sometimes in subtle ways, and at other times in ways that are staggeringly huge. I see the children around me, without any care in the world, and I both envy and despise them at times. Is it too late, to have that innocent joy back? Or have the years erased it so irrevocably?