When Perfect Isn’t Enough
Perfectionist is not a word I would have used to describe myself. Maybe that’s what should’ve told me that was exactly what I was. You see, I knew that I wasn’t called or supposed or able to be perfect. So, I denied that that was what I was striving for. I wanted excellence in everything, I wanted to make the most of my college education, I wanted to have it all in its exact place. Perfection is easy when you can hide, when you can locate the nearest exit. If you say just the right thing, you can lie while telling the truth. At the very least, you can talk about hard parts, the weak spots, and the pain in a way that makes it seem like you’re walking out of it and don’t need any help. I didn’t want to be weak . I spent this semester feeling weaker than ever. I kept writing fiction and poetry because it’s easier to hide behind the words of a character, easier to hide behind metaphor than actually say concrete words for myself. In real life, I mumbled because I couldn’t believe