Distillation is the process of purification. It calls for only the purest essence to be collected at the end of the process. It’s a tall order, but I wish that more things in life were distilled. Cut out the BS, say what you want to say, deal with the circumstances with a surgical precision that leaves only the smallest of scars.
But we’re not the pure entities we wished we were. Despite the maturity I’ve gained as a result of not always getting what I want, I don’t think I’ve developed a hard heart that doesn’t break when I can’t give you what you want. It hurts me that I will hurt people, simply for being the person I am, and the choices I make. It makes me irate that I cannot be all things to all people, that as much as I have the ability to love, I will always have the capacity to hurt as well.
And in that sense, the singular, distilled thought, is that I am still that much immature, if I still believe in happily ever afters.