Past my thirties, I admit I feel like I'm still not ready.
I am far from perfection, by my own standards.
I don't want to be that good guy today, and fool around ten years after.
And I've seen enough good guys turn to monsters. Most of them are friends.
Or maybe I'm just overly ambitious, always in pursuit of greatness.
Or I became too tough that I can live alone.
And maybe I'll never be perfect nor ready.
I will only have to settle on admiring you afar.