I’m someone who is subconsciously wired with an obsession with perfection whether it is internal or external and there are times when I beat myself over for slipping up.
This mentality, at my highest of moments, forces me to perform my absolute best and, at my worst, paralyzes me.
Cutting off my laughter for fear of laughing too loud. Keeping my mouth shut for expressing my thoughts in case it doesn’t come out right or I say something wrong or offensive or unheard of. Be quiet don’t make a suggestion. It forces me to hold back on the skip that’s yearning to come out of my toes. To burst of the outpour of emotions that are triggered over the most unthinkable of objects. And most of all, it keeps me from following my gut, sometimes in the most important of moments of my life. Forgetting that the tiny voice that whispers seemingly unreasonable things might not be as unreasonable as I thought it to be.
And over the past few years, I’ve been working especially hard in trying to untangle myself from these rather self-destructing habits.
I’ve been trying to find the masterpiece that is produced from the unevenness of my face and the hills on my nose. The seamless arrangement from the unsymmetries of my natural state. The way my thoughts align in understandable patterns that look like constellations that form no bodies.
I try not to allow the claws that pull back at my soul to wither me away as I force myself to be okay with my personal best. Trying to unlearn with winds against me at every step. Winds the earth of my subconscious creates to protect me from falling short of the masterpiece in my head. Trying to surpass my perception of myself, others perception of me—which never seems to be one and the same. Trying to learn the difference between perfection and excellence.
It’s not a pattern or a cycle, in fact, I think it’s quite worse. What starts off with passion pulls me into a matrix that accepts only what comes under its rules.
And yet I fight on. Not because I don’t want my mind’s masterpiece to be realized but because life is an interaction. It’s addition and subtraction. It’s full of formulas we can’t always prove. But at the end, they all work with perfection.
There’s that word again. Fighting its way still. Slithering through the tiniest cracks of my mind.
I understand why people say life itself is a never-ending discovery. A never-ending process.
Because I don’t think there’ll ever come a day when I’ll stop. And to be honest, I don’t quite think my conscious self that works hard to be, really minds that. In fact, I believe I wouldn’t mind if that’s all that’s written in the pages of my book.
Because what can be more beautiful than the human relishing and working in finding excellence in human being?