This probably sounds like some sort of bad oxymoron, but I can’t fail successfully. I can never just acknowledge a failure and move on with the lesson. I always take the weight of the issue, throw it on my back, take my shoes off and decide that climbing a mountain of needles is what I deserve.
What sense does this make? None! I know that, yet I can’t stop.
I hate to disappoint. The more I care about the person I disappoint, the more I find it hard to not hurt myself to make it right. Then after days of just dragging it on I come to the conclusion that it’s pointless. I need to loosen up. It feels like I have two sumo wrestlers in my head right now. Their fat asses are almost oozing out of my ears. I call it round 3, you call it a migraine.
I feel like Eminem right now. I’m not afraid to take a stand. I’m not afraid to say I’m wrong. But when I am wrong, why am I afraid of being human? Am I a secret perfectionist? So secret, in fact, that even I don’t know it. Or maybe I just aim to be the perfect image of a boyfriend. I think that’s it. I can’t stand the thought of not being the “perfect” boyfriend; not making my girlfriend the happiest on the planet at all times. I pride myself on my sensitivity, understanding, patience, care, love, and determination. So when I make a mistake, I feel I lose all of those. It’s almost feels like a sport, and I just dropped in ranking. Fortunately, the only person who believes this is me. She still cares, loves, and adores me as she always has. I, on the other hand, become disturbed with myself, and disgusted by my actions.
I’m in the pursuit of happiness. But am I also in the pursuit of perfection? I find it so easy to admit to someone that they’re just wrong, and this includes me. However, I have the toughest time trying to move on from the fact that maybe, somewhere deep down on the inside, I’m human too and it’s okay to mess up at times like humans do.