Upon request

Last wish
I willingly submit me to myself;
Honestly, I know not why sometimes.
I know I am am made from two components,
A disposition to swing a certain way,
And experience that prunes me into me.
Trying to be my best self is a goal I have.
Sometimes goals are forgotten;
Sometimes goals are superseded.
This best self does not exist in one form.
I make it as does a tree grows flowers.
I make it as does a bush grows thorns.
Often times it is me getting in the way.
I stop and slow the progress I start,
For this I truly despise myself;
I don't loath who I am,
Only why I can't leap these stupid hurtles.
These self manifesting hurtles.
I may someday conquer me.