I’ve only read the first page of Chuck Klosterman’s But What If We're Wrong? and can already relate quite strongly:

I’ve spent most of my life being wrong.
Not about everything. Just about most things.

At this point, my wrongness doesn’t even surprise me. I almost anticipate it. Whenever people tell me I’m wrong about something, I might disagree with them in conversation, but—in my mind—I assume their accusation is justified, even when I’m relatively certain they’re wrong, too.

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