It’s strange how you can remember a certainty without remembering the moment

It’s strange how you can remember a certainty without remembering the moment it broke.

For me, it was in the middle of a conversation I wasn’t meant to hear. Two adults — arguing quietly in the kitchen, but not quietly enough.

Contradictions slipped through the cracks. Inconsistencies. Uncertainties. Vulnerability.

I felt something crumble — not trust, but certainty. The sense that adults had a cohesive worldview.

I didn’t become rebellious. I became observant.

There’s a moment when childhood lifts its veil, and you see that the world is run by people improvising. It’s both terrifying and liberating.