rough draft

I feel sort of off the path.  Watched Chinatown last night and in the end it is the victim who ultimately loses, and she was just trying to get by in life.  The bad guy gets what he wants and the good guy’s best intentions fall flat as the harshness of reality crushes any hope he ever had.  As we progress through life, is it inevitable that we are worn out and down by this thing called reality and must our ideals age with our faces?  Like Dorian Gray, do our truths realized show on our faces?  Whether it’s the visage we show to the world or the one we see in the mirror in the morning?  Can we make it through life and at the end, without disillusion, believe that purity and goodness can coexist with knowledge and experience?  Or are those only the thoughts of a fresh-faced ingenue?  I used to have a great hope and, I think, purity about me.  In fact, it was perhaps a quite charming feature to some.  But as I try to live a more intellectual life, my optimism is harder to rationalize and often folds more easily under those jaded, sootier images of truth.  So, too will my countenance soften with folds, crease with experience, regardless if I like it or not, if it seems right in any way that I should change when I would rather stay the same.  Where am I?  What am I doing?  And who is this person I see in the mirror?


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