There is a certain amount of comedy in the periods of my life when I forget that I know nothing. Somewhere amongst the amoeboid criticisms that multiply uncontrollably, my humbleness is swallowed and replaced by a false sense of superiority. Slowly but surely, in that ever so exponential way, I lost control of my ego and it puffed up like a man with a fancy suit and expensive watch. And so in eight months I have tiptoed backwards, blindfolded and cocky, into the warm arms of delusion.
And because of this, I had to take a moment to laugh at myself. The bubble burst and I found myself standing wet and awkward in the vacuum of my misconceptions, as though I were a naked adolescent standing embarrassed before a laughing audience.
What am I to do but laugh at myself for my folly and find a better fitting shroud for my nakedness?
At the end of the day, I can do nothing more than return to infancy and relearn what it is to be righteous.
Because after all...
Who am I to criticize?