Every decision made was bad. For years he would come to crossroads and choose the wrong paths. Come to doors that lead to opportunity and slam them shut, lock them, break the keys off in the lock.
One day he says enough is enough. He decides to make the right choices, take the right paths. He is optimistic, pleased with the visions of his new life.
The next door he comes to, filled with opportunities, is open. He tries to go through but he is too fat. The years of poor diet have taken their toll. The same for the next three doors. He comes to a branch in the road. He tries to go down the one that looks the most promising but after a a few hundred feet comes to a bridge that has been sabotaged from the other end. Years of bad decisions have made him many enemies, at this point they don’t want him to get ahead.
He turns back to the branch in the road and contemplates his options. The path of poor decisions is clear, flat, and quite easy to tread. It is a valid option. If broken down logically he thinks to himself, I’ll just die one day regardless of whether I drink healthy, am nice, do drugs, or exercise. He takes a step onto that path. He pauses.
He thinks of the other options. He could maybe eat a little better, excersize a bit, until he could fit through one of those doors. Or perhaps he could yell across the gap the bridge used to span. Maybe someone could be convinced he was a changed man. He stood there mulling it over in his head, unable to decide what to do.
He still stands there, not realizing that in doing so he has made the poorest choice of all.