that most of the people I work with, and many of the people I know, and damned near all my friends, are broken.

Some are broken in ways that astound me, some are broken in ways that make it difficult to be their friends, some are broken in ways that are- frankly, amusing to watch.

It is their brokenness that makes them interesting, and if sometimes it is hard to be around them it is worth it because they are worth it; their “Handicap” only a way for them to excel that the boringly sane do not exhibit.

I have long thought that all great artists and authors have a serious flaw, and that flaw of person is the lens that focuses their great talent, the defect that makes them a savant- so SF authors can be forgiven their trembling fear of travel, mystery writers their OCD, painters their strange vices, because what they create is worth it.

My flaws are of course numerous and extensive; the four horsemen of the apocalypse and indeed the nazgul are terrified of the skeletons in my closet, lord forbid that it ever be opened.

Yes, broken. But still to a man and woman, worth every moment I can be with them. Hopefully they can be forgiving of my brokenness.