I'm broken—as most are.
"Only human," but far more than simply imperfect.
Unwhole.
Incomplete.
Unrealized.
I am not what I could be, only what I am.
Just shy of fatally flawed, but well enough to get along with little trouble or effort; and therein lies the problem: I get along, and that's all it really takes, so that’s as much as I give.
I could travel the troublesome road, or put forth greater effort, but why bother when this is so much easier?
Why climb when I can coast?
The tougher path is always more interesting, and ultimately more rewarding an experience, and I'll certainly be a better person for having walked it.
And more effort on my part will often, if not always, yield more desirable results, again, making for a more rewarding experience, bettering me as a person.
But doing either, or both is difficult, and at times excruciating, and so I often choose to do but one, or, more often, neither.
I'm not proud of it, this is just the way it is; and from the look of things, I’m hardly alone.
You can’t see much from down here, only what lies immediately ahead, often taking the curves faster than we should, despite the signs, or possibly in spite of them.
I hear the view from above is amazing, with an entirely new and enlightening perspective, showing you not only what lies far ahead, but other roads, and the their destinations.
Here’s hoping I have it in me to see it for myself someday.
