The fear of failing rules my life – I long
To cut myself some slack. The need to please
Runs deep as death: to screw it up, be wrong
From time to time, be sloppy, careless, ease
My rigid standards half of one degree
Would liberate my soul; no prison cell
Or torment that the world devised could be
As harsh as my own self-inflicted hell.
Just how bad could it be – would heaven rend
Itself asunder, oceans boil, old men
Tear out their beards, Life As We Know It end
If I were less-than-perfect now and then?
It’s time I learned to stumble, slip and fall.
Accept I’m only human, after all.
Does anyone else beat themselves up over the smallest mistake, see near-success as a total disaster, or focus solely on what isn’t quite right? Or is it just me? N.
(I just described my perfectionist tendencies in a strict metrical form, didn’t I? Good grief, it’s even worse than I thought 🙂 )