Funny how people wince when they lose an illusion, and how the phrase “he disillusioned me” is a complaint and accusation. It’s not like there’s not an infinite supply of illusions, is it? I suppose they’re like warts, you get used to them, and some forms of removal are painful.
Once upon a time, as a young man, I couldn’t imagine living in an illusory state. Knowledge of reality, no matter how gritty or tattered, is imperative for living, isn’t it?
A much wiser me pines for the innocence of illusion.