Perfection

As a teenager I was always writing poetry. It was my way of releasing emotions. You see, in public I was not emotional. I didn’t cry, I didn’t tell people how I felt, I didn’t really share much of anything. But in my poetry journal I could release everything I was feeling.

I got out of touch with poetry as I grew older. This could be related to the fact that I got better at expressing my emotions, or it could be that I got better at surpressing them. Whatever the reason, it became less and less frequent as years passed.

I recently started the arduous task of organizing all of my old random scribblings into my idea journals. The most pressing reason for this is that I want to be able to find things. This has resulted in me finding some poems from my teenage years and a few from the less frequent years. I’ve noticed a common theme.

Today I can joke about being an “irrational perfectionist” but really that joke just hides a darker truth about that struggle. Perfectionists have negative self talk and we’re prone to anxiety. As I flip through those old journals, I find the topic of perfection to be one that comes up a lot.

Today, I’m sharing one of the poems with you fine people. Comment if you see fit, don’t steal, be kind.

I’m not watching you
     to see
    how to do it.
I’m not judging
    you or your life.
But I’m watching,
    that much is true.
It’s just not
         about you.

“Perfection is not attainable.”
“Nobody is perfect.”
“You can’t have it all.”

If you cannot be perfect
     shouldn’t you at least be close?

Shouldn’t I try?

You
    I’m proud of.
You
     I’m honored to know.
You
      I’m impressed with.

I’m not watching you
     to judge you
         or to beat you
           or to tie with you.
I’m not judging you at all.

It’s me who’s being measured.