Then not only an old man, but also a drunkard, becomes a second time a child.

Adulthood is a fragile habit

There's something unsettling in noticing how we circle back to childhood—not through nostalgia, but through loss. When someone drinks heavily or ages into confusion, they're not just becoming weaker versions of themselves. They're literally losing the hard-won abilities that made them adults: impulse control, the ability to live with delayed gratification, the capacity to hold complex thoughts in mind. They become dependent again, emotionally reactive, trapped in the present moment.

What makes this observation sting is that it cuts both ways. Most of us assume we've permanently graduated from childish behavior, but Plato's suggesting that this maturity is fragile—it can be unmade. Chronic drinking literally rewires the brain's executive functions. Dementia strips away decades of learning. But even in smaller ways, when we're exhausted or overwhelmed, we recognize that adult competence is something we have to maintain, not something we own forever.

The deeper discomfort might be this: if adulthood is just a temporary condition held together by our faculties, then what we call "growing up" isn't really about becoming someone new. It's about continuously choosing the habits and discipline that keep us from regressing. That's both heavier and more hopeful than we usually like to admit.