Perfectionism is my greatest frenemy,
sometimes we clash as
two great warriors on a bloodstained battlefield.
Other times we embrace as old comrades
reunited in purpose.
Perfectionism has a savory scent
of sweat and hard work and satisfaction
with hints of beauty.
He always makes me feel like
I don\'t measure up.
He battles to gain control
over my emotions and mind.
I try I try I try I try I try I try I try
to fight back and make
him realise that
neither of us will be perfect.
He malingers in my mind, making
threats of unhappiness,
by pointing out my flaws, leaving them
barren thorns of hatred.
I scramble to the nearest bathroom,
hopefully leaving perfectionism behind,
but he is still chasing me wherever I go.
I close the bathroom door behind me,
leaving him out.
I say to my reflection:
I love you
I love you
I love you
even if we\'re not perfect.