Perfectionism is a disease.
I can't think of what to write
so why write anything?
I can't get straight As
so why get any?
If I can't be perfect what's the point?
My passions aren't fun unless I'm perfect at them.
Why try if there's a possibility I'll fail?
Might as well give up.
Spare your dignity.
You're never going to be good enough.
Perfect isn’t real, tbh. (Here we go again, I’m bout to rant, so get ready.) The idea of “perfect” was created so that egotistical people could feel good about herself. This is not a brag, but I will put some things about myself to make my point. I am a straight a student, and whenever I see a hundred I think “perfect”! Then I ask someone else what grade they made. If it’s lower than mine, I’ll laugh and mock at them in my mind. (I got an alter ego, don’t worry.)
Anyway, the idea of “perfect” and that you achieve it makes people feel good. You can’t be a perfect human being. You can’t craft the perfect AI. You can’t be the perfect plastic. You can’t be the perfect daughter. Because if you keep trying, you’ll keep running in the same spot; you’ll keep going in circles. Because PERFECT isn’t real, and IMPERFECT is a lie. If it was true, all of us humans would be labeled as IMPERFECT.
Because we all suck balls! (Excuse my language)
We all contribute to global warming. We all have secrets and people we hate. We all lie. We all think THOSE thoughts. God! The Idea of perfection is flawed in itself. So many people trying to reach it are getting worked up about it and feel IMPERFECT anyway!
I feel fucked up with writing too! That’s why I write stuff down and read it another day. (Though on this app I feel pressure and then my mind cycles and then I have a panic attack, so I just go ahead and post it)
Dear, sweet baby Atlas. You are one of the first people I met on this app so strangely I have a connection to you that I cannot explain. I don’t need to speak with people verbally (I hate doing so anyway) I don’t talk this refined and structured irl. I would be called IMPERFECT because of the things I have. But dear, dear Atlas. I have one thing to say to you before I stop:
ALL HUMANS ARE IMPERFECT, and that’s okay.
Because you decide who you become, you decided if you choose to follow the perfection values and shit—I stopped trying long ago. I used to cry over C’s, I used to hide my small ass beneath my jacket, I used to border my (crazy) thoughts up. Why? I wanted to be perfect for my step-father, but then I realized, why try to be perfect—this shit is giving me anxiety.
Okay. Sorry. I’m done. If you read this, I hope you have a day. Yes, a day or night.
