You wake up one day and realize you are not part of your life. The life you lived does not belong to you. Your body is not, your frame of mind is not. There is your life, just living itself and you are just watching from the sidelines. Watching yourself merely exist. And it is then when you stand before this unabashed mirror of truth, that you see who you really are.
Not perfect. Not complete. Not content.
The perfectability of man is God’s bad joke. And nobody gets it until its too late.