Painted white lines

Lines. They mark and divide. But yet people do not necessarily heed them. Stepping over. Or stopping short. The recent "road improvement" efforts here in Jogja city seem to be centered on painting new markings on the roads. Not that it makes the traffic any more orderly, the same reckless overtaking, against the flow of traffic stunts still are a norm. So... what the hell for? This reminds me vaguely of irritating behaviour at train stations with commuters squeezing to get on even before those wanting to get off can exit the carriage. There are lines for sure. But for all intents and purposes, it could be painted on those inconsiderate people's foreheads. They can't see them.

Lines. They don't necessarily have to be physical in nature. Many exist in an imagined reality which only our minds can see. Invisible boundaries. Drawn. Re-drawn. Erased. Drawn again. A never ending process as we negotiate the uncertain pathway that we call life. I wonder when would come a time that a line, wrongly drawn, or not drawn, be the downfall of me.