Broken

I sit here and know that I am broken. Except that I don’t know that. I know that you think that I am broken. But really, what do you know? You only know what I have let you know, and quite frankly, that’s not that much. I think it is good for me to see you in the light that I am seeing you in. I know that you are not perfect, and honestly, you’re not even close. So really, who is the broken one?