Familiarity breeds contempt. The more the seams show, the more the myth evaporates, the more the ordinary irritations accumulate.

This may explain why my family see me with less elevated thoughts than what strangers think of me. 🤔

From far away, a person becomes a clean narrative arc. Up close, they’re a stack of drafts.

You cannot hold someone in heroic focus when you've watched them revise themselves in real time. The stranger gets the book. The household gets the manuscript, cross-outs and all. 🙄