October 5th, 2011
I feel like I am living in a fish bowl. I wake at night in a sweat fearing my most intimate and embarrassing secrets are known, or that I have done something irredeemable I cannot come back from. I feel like my world is coming apart, that the slightest mistake will cause it to unravel. I feel I must try to be perfect.
But why be perfect? How can anyone be perfect?
The feeling is angst. A general feeling of unidentifiable dread and desperation that people get from living in modern society. But I worry about past failures, past confrontations. I have tagged myself because I was hit by a car when I was five. And I will always blame myself, blame that on my past failures. I must, in my own mind, be perfect to overcome my deficits. Yet I can’t be perfect. I…
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