Amazing to all; will never be good enough for me.

Perfection

does not

exist.

So why do I crave it?

If perfection does not exist why must my mind convince me I am nothing, if not perfect.

If perfection does not exist why do I base my reasoning for people mistreating me on how much of a perfect person I am.

Perfect daughter.

Perfect friend.

Perfect girlfriend.

Perfect student.

Perfect employee.

Perfect cousin. Niece. Grand-daughter. Peer.

Perfect.

If perfection does not exist why is the entirety of my life based on it.

Is my mind playing games of manipulation? Misconstruing my own inner thoughts, beliefs, ideologies. Turning my subconscious mind into a battlefield. I'm the dying soldier laying low in fields of tall grass hoping that I find perfection and it heals me of my fatal wounds.

Only to find that it's been a cover-up the whole time.

Perfection is the mask of beauty worn by the ugly enemy of whom is my mind, creating false beliefs in my head knowing everything I am seeking,

longing for,

dying for,

is fake.

Because perfection does not exist.

Right?

I mean that's the theme of 1000 different songs; nobody's perfect.

Yeah.

Nobody is perfect,

we're all told that from a young age.

Yes, we know. Perfection does not exist.

It's all in your head.

But what if it isn't?

What if perfection does exist but achieving it requires so much exertion, dedication and drive that people choose to instead normalize being imperfect.

So that no one has to chase perfectionism.

I'm different.

I have to be perfect. I'm not okay with normalizing imperfection.

That may be everyone else; imperfect.

But it is not me.

No, I am perfect.

Or rather yet I will be.

I have to be.

I need to be.

Damn it I need to be.

All I need is perfection.

Without it, who am I?

Perfection.

It'd be like eternal suffering with no end.

Perfection.

For every word I say I need,

Perfection.

For every thing I do I need,

Perfection.

For every task I do I need,

Perfection.

Every grade. In every class. In every semester.

Perfection.

Perfect daughter.

Perfect friend.

Perfect girlfriend.

Perfect student.

Perfect employee.

Perfect cousin. Niece. Grand-daughter. Peer.

Perfect.

I'm not like everybody else.

Everyone who has accepted being imperfect.

That's not me.

No, I'm perfect.

Or rather yet, I will be.

I need to be.

Perfectionism lies within the left ventricle of my heart, pumping oxygen blood to the rest of my body. It lies within every heart beat that moves me forwards.

It's all I can ever think about.

How to do better, think better, plan better, act better,

be better.

Failure is like a stab to my chest.

When I fail it is like a billion wasps stinging at my eyes,

sending out a tsunami of tears.

When I am told it's okay to fail I think yes, for everyone else but no, not me.

I must be perfect.

But why? You're already good enough.

No, I need to be perfect.

But why? You're amazing as is.

Amazing to all; not good enough for me.

This is the life I live. The life I lead.

I live in a different world than everyone else.

In my world, I have to be perfect.

Every day is yet another one spent living on edge in fear of my failures sending me into the depths of the life ending fires beneath me, longing to take me out of my world.

In my world, I have to be perfect.

So then maybe,

if I can't change my world,

if I can't change that in my world perfection does exist,

for me, and me only,

if I can't change that in my world I am undeserving of love, happiness and gratitude unless I am perfect,

maybe my solution is to leave my world.

My world exists in my mind.

If I wish to be happy like those around me who are imperfect are I must choose to not have perfection.

I must choose to accept that perfection exists only in my mind, but not in real life.

For the same way I love those who are not perfect,

I as well deserve love even through my failures.

Perfection does not exist. Nobody is perfect.

Every day, I am learning that.

Every day I am learning how to eat, breathe, sleep,

and live,

without my dying urge to be perfect.

My craves to be perfect are translating into aspirations to do the best I can while knowing that if and when I do inevitably fall,

lose,

fail,

I will still be worthy of everything good.

Because if perfection were to exist, it would be that.

The willingness to be imperfect.