Naive

June 1st, 2026

A Carnival Evening — Henri Rousseau (1885)

I feel naive. I feel like I am being very naive. What’s worse — I cannot place it in any way, or tie it to anything that happened to me. It’s just a feeling, a slight but nagging feeling that highlights my ignorance. And not the good ignorance, the one I cultivate and one which pertains to current events and styles and media. No, it feels like I am reading the situation, my current situation, the wrong way. Like I am being naive and unwilling to face reality. And I cannot in any way find the reality which I am ignorant of. But the feeling, the throbbing anxious feeling remains. And there is something to it, since it affects me so much. It has to do with something I am supposed to be naive about, but I cannot name it to be able to do something about it. And thinking about it, I am also unsure about the distinction between naivety and idealism. Of course, I am already moving my train of thought toward idealism. Someone something somewhere didn't measure up to my ideals, and that is why I feel this way. That is some good deflection. But as much as I try to figure it out, I still cannot say if that is my lack of awareness or deliberate choice. Something is not right. Not that much, since I am functioning normally, but much enough to bother me.