is this all you want to be? (not alive, but not dead)

I cannot write and I cannot motivate myself.
I can...but it is an uphill struggle through thick underbrush
(I've always been a man who shies away from hardship)
(If things get tough, I am liable to give up)
(yet I couch my failures in terms that soften the reality)
(I dress up my giving up with vague philosophical notions)
What I need to do is grit my teeth and keep going
God gave me two legs, and I still have them, and as long as I have them, I can walk up any hill
If there is a thicket in my way, I can hack my way through it
And if I forgot my machete, I can use my hands to rip the branches, use my booted feet to stomp them underneath, use my teeth to tear them
And when I make it to the top of the hill, I will be bedraggled, dirty, and bloody
And I will look down to the bottom of the hill
(where I am so used to sitting comfortably)
And my dirt and blood streaked face will break into a smile
And my hammering heartbeat and labored breathing will be the most joyous music
I will raise my fist in triumph

I've always imagined Frost's road not taken was simply a darker, wilder road
Now I realize what it really is
The uphill struggle, the wandering lost through the thorns, the mental and physical exertion and exhaustion of going against the comfortable alternative.
The road not taken is pain.
The road not taken is beauty.
The road not taken is the only worthwhile path.