I like broken stuff. Broken stuff always has a good story to tell.
I especially relate to broken people. People who’ve been punched in the mouth and knocked on their ass more than a few times but always manage to get back up, spit out their teeth and move on. People who wear their faded but true colors on their sleeve for the whole world to see. Real people. Battle tested. Loyal.
That’s the kind of crowd I hang with. To me, if it ain’t been broke, I can’t trust it.
Even as far back as grade school, I remember fitting in better with the kid with the holes in his shoes who had to wear the same shirt three times a week. Those kids were just easier to be around. It’s like they already knew they had nothing to lose, but they never took anything for granted.
Right after my first stint in college I had a really shitty job in sales. I sold trailer houses, or “manufactured homes” as we liked to call them back then to make us feel ok about putting a family of four in a 12-foot wide metal box. Needed the job. And people needed a place to live. That’s how I justified it. I hated it but I learned from it.
I learned that I was really good at selling the overused, busted up junk that had been sitting around in the “graveyard.” The stuff everybody else forgot about. The stuff nobody else wanted to sell because they didn’t see anything in it for themselves. I always felt more comfortable selling the damaged goods — the stuff with the big “As is” sticker on the front window. It felt like something I was supposed to do, because somebody had to.
Broken down, busted up and left behind just seem to work better for me.
One thing I really admire about being broken — it comes with regrets. There’s no way you get through life without regrets. If somebody says they have no regrets, they’re either lying to themselves or they let themselves forget. To me there’s no such thing as “no regrets.” No regrets means you haven’t fucked up enough. Fucking up is part of being broken. Being broken is part of being real. Regrets are good. I respect regrets. And I have plenty of them.
I think most of us are broken in one way or another. And that’s ok. That’s just how this thing works. It’s the people who act like they have all their shit together that you really have to worry about. They’re most likely the ones who are barely being held together.
If you ask me, broken doesn’t always need to be fixed. Sometimes being sold “As is” is ok.
That’s what I think anyway.