Impressionable

The older I get, the more I come to realize how impressionable I was when I was younger. I think I still am. People who know me may be stunned to read this (either that, or they’ll laugh a hearty laugh and say “No shit, Sherlock!”), but I think it’s pretty true, thinking back on how my personality was formed, the things that influenced me, the traps I fell into. I don’t think it’s all bad. I think I’ve had some remarkable experiences by way of my being more easily led than I realized I was.
As is often the case these days, if you put me on the spot and asked me to cite an example, I’d have a hard time, because my brain doesn’t work well within those parameters, but I know myself a little, and as I review the events of my life, my lack of originality and independence is kinda glaring in a lot of ways.

Younger Me would’ve hated me for saying this, called bullshit on it all and so forth, but he’d eventually know that I had him found out. Younger Me would’ve despised me for all sorts of reasons, truth be told, but I’d hope he’d actually learn something, were he and I ever to meet.