My parents are mad at me1.
In one of the recent calls that we had, my mom said in a disgusted, disappointed tone that I didn’t understand because I was too naive, that I don’t know how horrible people can be.
I think I do, though. It’s a pet peeve of mine when people pick on villains in media for being unrealistic, when people don’t believe a Reddit post because the people involved in the story behave irrationally. Because horrible people do exist, and they elude understanding, and they live and breathe among us without consequence or justice.
But let me believe in the best of people anyway. Let me believe in the goodness of humanity so that I can act in kind. Or at least so that I can sleep easier at night. Let me be naive.
A very fitting beginning to a blogpost about childishness. ↩