Obsessively Imperfect
When One's Mind Tells Them Everything Is Wrong Even When It's Not
Wake up, right on time
Alarm is blaring the dog is whining.
Get up
Get dressed
Do hair
Every day the same routine.
But wait!
That hair is in the wrong place
There is a wrinkle in that shirt
Those pants just don’t fit right
Never mind it’s time to go
Can’t waste another minute.
Wait!
There is that voice again.
It tells me every day just what is wrong with me
It points out the wrinkle in that shirt
And turns it into the tidal wave of self-hate and deprecation
Some days that voice is small
Like a fly buzzing in my ear
Other days I am the prisoner in a coliseum
And it is the lion ready to prey on my flesh.
Wait!
Others have it worse than you.
Chaos, messy, disorganized.
The way I may describe a room
Everything out of place, nothing seems to fit
Much the like the caverns of my mind
Wait!
Everything has its place.
“You are so obsessed”
“Does this mess drive you crazy?”
The words of jovial joking
But to me they are the sword that stabs me
Each jab and joke pushes it one inch deeper.
I am the stone and they are the sword
But unlike in King Arthur,
I am the stone that holds no great weapon of prophecy
Only the weapon of my own self destruction
Counting down the days until the hilt of hate
Finally cracks and breaks me.
Wait!
Get yourself together!
You are pretty in your own way,
You have your qualities that are special.
His words trying to lighten the blow
Only make the bullet hole into a gaping wound
The bleeding and heart ache
Once recurring visitors, have finally bought a home.
Wait!
Things will get better!
I am the suburbs of suffering,
The five star hotel of self-hate,
The condo of cover ups
The mansion of masks
The trailer park of tear stained cheeks.
Wait!
Stop being so dramatic!
Wake up, right on time
Alarm is blaring, dog is whining.
Get up
Get dressed
Do hair
Wait!
What mask of “perfection” do I wear today?
About the Creator
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