Did I truly mature, or did I simply age? This question gnaws at me today, amplified by a newspaper article on aging and maturity. Why couldn't I foresee my present struggles when I was younger? Why did I consistently sideline my own needs, prioritizing the understanding of others? Even when I didn't give people exactly what they wanted, I was always trying to grasp their situations, their states of mind.
Is this maturity, or a profound denial of my own problems, an endless effort to just "understand" others as they are? Was I seeking to please them, or just clinging to the hope that everything would somehow work out? Unlike my peers, why did I always believe "it will be fine"?
Now, I find myself struggling to understand my own needs, to discern what's truly best for me. Am I a fool for thinking I could navigate anything, or for not knowing myself at all?
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