in order for any of this to make sense, it’s important that you understand the standard of perfection that’s always been required of me.
that’s probably enough for you to get a clear picture of what my life has been like.
gifted perfectionists are basically all the same, at the center of ourselves.
there’s something very peculiar about the word special. it can mean so many things.
sometimes i feel like i’m split into two people straight down the middle, and all they do is stare each other straight in the eye.
and one of them is very rigid and cold, like a sheet of ice.
and the other one is a pot of boiling water wearing human skin.
and they stare each other straight in the eye all day for all eternity
and they hold their breaths
and they think at each other:
“you fuck up.”
“no, you fuck up.”