I am not sure why you would want to become disillusioned. To see, with clarity, through the fictions of your life to what are probably no more than other, even more persistent fictions. But, possibly, disillusionment is a gift. Maybe knowing what goes on backstage… and knowing that– beyond the backstage– there is a door leading outside, and that– once outside– you can at least catch the scent of wood smoke and, with luck, see the Big Dipper… that could be fine. I guess. So.
This is my other place.