The older I get, the less that I know

Only a few minutes to write…

My name, I Know Nothing, describes where I am at this point in my history.

When I was much younger, I thought that as I aged, I’d gain a ton of wisdom.

Fast forward to now. Much older, gray hairs growing difficult to hide. And I realize that I know nothing.

OK, not exactly. Getting older has provided me with experience that has taught me life lessons. But I still can’t predict what will happen next. I still can’t figure out the motivations of others. As a mature woman, I realize, that’s OK. Life was never supposed to work like.

However, there’s still that trapped teenager in me that shouts, “Why not!”

That teenager may be revealed in entries here. I kept a running journal for over two decades. I still journal from time to time (like here). Back in the day, the teenager me had no choice but to keep a journal. I called it a diary back then. I started off with one of those little books with a lock on it, and then moved onto notebooks. In any case, my life depended on scribbling down my thoughts, especially during the days when I felt hopeless. Without my journal, I don’t think I could have navigated the cruel waters of adolescence and young adulthood.

There are times when that girl seems like such a stranger to me. If only she had known…

But then again, the older me still knows nothing.