Is my perfect too perfect?
Hello! It is I, your favorite mentally unstable twink. In todays episode we’re diving into why my need for perfectionism is the reason of my decaying existence. So grab a snack, pick out your favorite beverage, and we’re just going to stress it all in the next 5 minutes because that’s how long it’s going to take you to read this because that’s how long my existence is. I promise I’m not crying.
So this all started when I was a child. When I wanted to do good in school and impress my parents. Ya know how every parent engrains in their childs first years to do good in school and get into a good college. Elementary school was easy, all I had to do was be a decent human being and I was in the clear. Middle school ehh I mean alright but not the best. That’s when I tried to find something secondary I could be perfect at to make up for what I was lacking academically. Then high school came and I just crashed and burned. I didn’t even die in the crash in burn, I as forced to watch my world on fire around me. Figuratively of course. Well good thing I was planning on finding a second thing to be perfect at.
Oh shit. I’m not good at anything else. Well, anything really since we found out I’m not good in school. (Wow this is really depressing I’m so sorry.) So here I am, sitting in my bed, wondering what the fuck I could do that I could possibly be the very best known to man at on the very first try.
Since literally nothing came to mind I decided long ago I’m good at nothing and this is the best it’s ever gonna get. And now here I am, 2 years away from Gay 30, alone but not really in my parents basement crying into a La Croix poured into a wineglass because I dont like the fizzies and I wanna be classy. Is this what my life has come to? Is this really what I get to wake up to for the rest of my life? I mean shit. What the fuck. What the fuck? What. The. Fuck.
Something’s gotta change. Grant what the fuck are you gonna do. You gotta find something that you’re good at. And typing out in third person what you need to hear is probably hopefully a step in the right direction, but you gotta do more steps. You gotta be this perfect ass mentally stable bitch. Fuck yeah. You’re going to be so mentally stable you’re gonna be a robot. Beep beep boop bitch.
But maybe, just maybe this isn’t the way to go about things. Maybe becoming an emotional psychopath isn’t the way, or even obtainable. Maybe this self destructive lifestyle is exactly what it says it is, self destructive. But maybe this is what I deserve in my own weird way? Who knows maybe this is the life that I was supposed to live. This will all just make sense in the future kind of thing. Let life take control and I get what I get.
I’m incredibly sorry this is just becoming a poor me post. Sometimes it just feels good to get things off your chest. I hope you understand.