Category: Uncategorized

Perfection

I want to be perfect.

It’s something that I’ve struggled with all my life, the cause of many depressive episodes. I know that it’s something unattainable but it’s still what I thrive to, even though it’s the very thing that kills me inside.

I need to be perfect.

I know that it’s impossible but it’s a need I can’t quench. If I’m not the best, then what’s the point? If I can’t come out on top, then why bother? Why go through all the motions if I’m going fail?

I hate the word: Failure.

I can never be less than, I must never be less than. My peers, colleagues, family or even strangers. If I’m not at the same level as them or higher, I see no worth in that.

What does it mean: Worth?

I base my worth on being the best. If I can’t be then, ultimately, I’m worthless, useless, obsolete. I see no point in being in a space, where I’m not perfect because then I’m replaceable.

Irreplaceability, what I yearn for.

At the end of the day, that’s what it all boils down to. If you aren’t the best, you get replaced with something- someone- better. That is a fear of mine. I guess you could say that my self-worth and self-esteem is incredibly fragile, and I’d say that you are spot on. If, by being perfect validates my self-worth then I’ll chase it till I die.

Because I’m too broken to validate myself.

Stuck on the ride

Everything is quiet and loud at the same time; my mind is going 1000 mph while physically my body moves at 5 mph. It’s a feeling I’ve become accustomed too, I’m still unsure whether it’s a good or a bad thing. But I’ll peg it as helpful. Well, helpful on the days that my mind isn’t consumed with thoughts that make my head spin with how fast I’m thinking, things that I shouldn’t be thinking, things I want to complete shut out. Feelings that I want to disappear and cease to exist.


But then comes the days when I can handle the rollercoaster of thoughts in my head, but my body doesn’t recuperate, it just decides to not want to do anything and I’m stuck. Stuck on a merry-go-round on which I’m slouched against. And it moves too slow, so fucking slow and I want it to end. Those are the days I hate the most. It’s a feeling of constant boredom and I can’t do nothing about it as I am not the operator of the ride.

But the funny thing is, I am the operator. At least a part of me is but I don’t have control, control of what I think and how my body feels. It’s constant. The ride never-ending, always moving. Some days I just want to shut everything down and kill the switch making sure it never starts up again, those days are the days I fear because it’s those days that I realise that I have a problem and I fear that it won’t be fixed.


I fear that it’ll be the day it’s all over so I stay slouched, whether it’s on the rollercoaster or merry-go-round I stay. Stuck on the ride for the fear of ending it all.