I recall in my childhood, whenever I couldn't connect with someone or they didn't act in a way I expected, I'd gripe to my mother, "Why aren't they like me?" Now, reflecting on my life, I almost always keep whining, "Why can't I be more like them? Why isn't my life as happening and aesthetic as theirs?" and It's a realization of how much life has evolved. But, I find myself wondering, when did my standards plummet? When did I become so superficial? When did I regress in life while striving to move forward?

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