The Wanderer Pt. II

Wandering does have side effects, unfortunately.
There is such a thing as tiredness,
creeping up through my worn out shoes.
There is boredom, which scars my bent back,
the whip held by the hands of uncountable experiences.
Having gotten so high, so soon, has a heavy, heavy price to be paid.
Social dynamics I've seen too many times,
and know and can read so much quicker than others,
make me old before my time.
It's difficult, very difficult,
to try and push the boundaries of my own little garden,
when that garden is many a mile across,
and each attempt to push takes creativity and energy:
first to recognize a path to the boundary,
amidst the thickets and dead trees making it harder by the try,
and then the energy to attempt another heave,
where the force needed, and the direction of the push,
can make me fail when applied wrongly,
but do not guarantee any result at all when applied correctly...
It's a game of huge expenditures, and no certainties.
Risky, and unrewarding.
Yet, yet it's an unavoidable necessity,
if I want to keep on living.