As I progress in years, I feel myself slipping into cynicism. People no longer matter to me as much as they should; I allow them to aggravate me more than I should. I once held the feelings of individuals above all else, but I have learned to loath. The naivete of youth, which lead me to care and to practice patience, has left me. I have deserted my principals. I have abandoned my morals. I no longer consider others’ feelings the same way I once did. I have become self serving, and I hate it. I am not blind to the individual tribulations of others, but I have let apathy obscure my vision. When compared to all others, I do not believe that I behave atrociously and spitefully toward individuals. I do not deem myself a cynic. But when I compare my current self to the way I once was, I see the marked difference. The reality of who I am does not meet the idealized standard I have set for myself - I am not as understanding and accepting of others as I once was. I question if one can hold on to the mannerisms of youth. The loss of simplicity that comes with growing up may be the culprit in one’s demoralization. Instead, I have grown to disdain some and show contempt toward others. To me, the mark of cynicism is how you treat others. Because one cannot abuse what one loves, and one cannot exhale what one hates. I long to view people as a once did, but as I become more aware of the faults of man, I fall deeper into cynicism.