perfection is a myth that drives many mad; I know that true perfection does not exist but I cannot stop holding myself to ridiculously high standards that I never meet. I am depressed. my life looks nothing like what I think it should look like and I try very hard to get it on track but I am still standing in the same place, only exhausted and drained. I know that only I can snap myself out of this funk, and I try, but I am still here and the longer I’m here the more I fear loosing the few people who are close to me and the more that fear looks real the lower I sink.
I am torn because I need to lighten up on myself and at the same time I need to be more. my expectations are not terribly high, they are realistic and seemingly obtainable. they also seem to be our of my reach and the idea of seeking for what I have and never trying for more makes me feel beat and stupid for ever thinking that I was better than this.