and i'd find these good men who'd love me back. they'd tell me i could be perfect too, and they would help lift me to that plateau. but i would balk and assure all parties involved that i could never be that perfect; my good would never be good enough.
all men are created equal, except me. i'm shit.
i want perfection in all things, but, with the slightest fear that i cannot attain it, i destroy any chance of it. and, with people, it's no different. they see perfection in me where i see only their eventual disappointment. we argue over who i am, essentially, and i persuade them to agree that i am, in fact, not all that. (who else would argue their imperfections?)
i find i am too literal for much success in this world. they say amazing, perfection, the best and they mean pretty damn good, still fucked up, but still the least fucked up in my life at the moment. and i know that's what they mean, but that other part of me begs for literal translations, because we both know no one is perfect (and me least of all).
can i break a 22-year bad habit? can i learn to just try and see? maybe i won't attain perfection, but i certainly won't end up any worse off than the failures i'm ensuring now. i mean, that's what people do. they try for a while. if it works, they try some more. if it doesn't, they try harder or give up. but, shit, at least they try.
i will never be perfect, but, if i tried, i could probably be pretty good.