The first time I thought it, we were standing in the dining hall. Maya had just told our entire table that she believed every person was fundamentally good. “Even the guy who stole my bike last week?” I asked, half-joking. She nodded. “Especially him. Maybe he needed it more than me.”

And I, the worldly sophomore, the survivor of two high school betrayals and one fake friend group, took it upon myself to educate her. “The world will eat you alive,” I warned. She smiled. “Then I’ll learn to digest it.”

I laughed, but the others didn’t. They looked at her with that gentle, slightly embarrassed pity you reserve for someone who hasn’t learned yet. That’s when I first labeled it: naive.