I guess there are some truths that I would prefer never having known. An idealist’s disappointment is a blade that carves to tailored depths and is as blunt as time worn stone.
In a word: it hurts.
It hurts in an especially excruciating way because it challenges the core of the idealism that is the basis of all that is dreamed and championed for. Disillusionment robs us of that bit of ourselves, little by little. Dream by dream. Hope by hope. Love by love. Shattered. Scarred.
Perpetually standing adrift at the crossroad to the rest of our life.