Robert Frost said he took the other road, leading him to fame. What do I choose? Death by fame, or death by normality. Both the roads look the same. Bumpy and lumpy, and full of mistakes. That we are bound to make. But I don't understand, Why do I get all these mistakes out in front of me When everyone I know has a pitch perfect road. Aren't all of us equal? Aren't all of us people? Shouldn't we all have the same road? I take the left road, traveling down I see, all these people struggling, maybe we all suffer the same? But then what a fool I am. To believe we all are made the same. God or whatever has made us, made us all different. For his own reasons. This world is odd, but interesting. In how it works. Maybe it is us that are odd. This road looks chaotic, people in power who don't deserve it, It will be alright child, I've been around the block now. I was scared as a young little kid, thrown into a world that hates me, with no experience. But I learned and grew, humans are made to adapt. And you, my friend, are human.
