innocence

If there is anything to be jealous of, it would be that innocence.

What is innocence when an adult looks at a child, or even a youth? Would you see simply ignorance? It’s quite unlikely to be apathy, but what if innocence is actually ignorance? Perhaps I confuse them.

Sometimes I wish I were innocent (or more innocent).

Sometimes I wish I could be ignorant of some things (perhaps unpleasant things).

Sometimes I wish I could just believe, and accept, without all my questioning, all my cynicism, all my realism.

But it is so hard to differentiate between foolishly believing, and sticking to your convictions.

innocence

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