Illusions

I guess one of the last relics of childhood is illusion and ideal. Truly becoming an adult means letting go of those things and accepting the truth for what it is. Accepting that our parents are only human and that they're flawed like everyone else, that there is no such thing as perfect in the world.

We want to believe, as children, that our parents' are perfect. Their love, their marriage, their personalities. We don't want to see the flaws, we just want to see the perfect picture. The fairytale image.

As adults, we come to realize that our parents are just like us. We are not perfect, so why should we expect them to me. Still, each time we learn of some new flaw or imperfection, it's like a mortal blow. We want them to be perfect, we want their to be no blemishes on their history, but of course that can't happen.

Marriages are complicated, people are complicated. We all have our sins and our vices. We've all made mistakes and have regrets. Beings parents does not change that, doesn't make you infallible, but sometimes as the child it's a little hard to see.

The moment of truth, when you can no longer deny that your parents are only human, is like crashing down to Earth, it's that last curtain of childhood pulled away and leaving only the big bad world.