The Immature Wisdom of a Ravenclaw

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Spread the branches as far as possible, as many leaves to charm the eye.

Spread the branches as far as possible, as many leaves to charm the eye.

After a few years I face that moment where I reflect upon my past doings, and smile at the silliness about my acts and judgements. The long conversations over needless thoughts and impulsive decisions. Oh teenage hormones and the social awkwardness. Such happy times.

Every time I reflect upon those vivid memories, some embarrassing and then pointless, it grows upon me, this sudden awareness of all my behaviours, and I see the ridiculousness in everything that has taken place over the years. I try not to repeat them again, but history shall find a way to repeat itself. It’s the story of human nature.

Every now and then, I gain more conscience of my actions.

So, what do I make of this?

Is this wisdom?  

I call it immature wisdom, cause it happens at uncertain time laps and I think I’ve gained more knowledge, but even so I tend to make rash hasty decisions that seem to make absolute sense at the time, but none later. This isn’t true wisdom, its immature. I age each day and mould myself into a different person, gaining abstract knowledge all the way. I keep falling only to see the broader scheme of things each time.

So I tell myself, “No, you’re not getting any wiser, just a bit more aware. Wisdom comes later.

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