Confessions of a Perfectionist
idk what I want sometimes, I’m never satisfied, I get stressed; always trying to one up myself and orchestrate every single idea and plan in my mind, I worry, I hide, I- I don’t speak up, I…, I’m always trying to figure out everything solo, I’m my biggest critic, I hold myself back, I don’t ask for help enough, I don’t like not having all the answers, I’m hyper independent even tho deep down I reallly don’t want to be. Every other day is a battle within self. I live in a constant state of editing, self.
Is this a poem? Is this a speech? Is it just some words? Idk, but it’s the truth I’ll tell ya that.
