I sometimes wonder when my bright-eyed hopes for the future will seem too young for my age and too naive for reality. I wonder when negativity will be the only way out of where I am. The most inspiring messages can be put out so easily by those of higher stature. They live with a pretentious idea of their own self-worth following years of getting to where they are, coupled with contempt for whomever hopes to follow their own dreams. Bitter people with stiff, high shoulders and a head that hangs low are quick to impose their wisdom even if my path is different than theirs. Backs have been broken to pave ways for us, and eventually lips will stiffen when I attempt to walk down the same sidewalks they once did.
So I wonder: Is this the eventual progression of age and wisdom? I would like to hope not. I would like to hope that there are still happy people who have seen the world at its worst, and are willing to not turn me into a bitter person either. Cynicism is for the weak.
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