There is a kind of sadness that comes from knowing too much,
from seeing the world as it truly is.
It is the sadness of understanding that life is not a grand adventure,
but a series of small, insignificant
moments,
that love is not a fairy tale,
but a fragile, fleeting emotion,
that happiness is not a permanent state,
but a rare, fleeting glimpse of something we can never hold onto.
And in that understanding,
there is a profound loneliness,
a sense of being cut off from the world,
from other people,
from oneself.
