“I hate this pressure to always be perfect. Impossible.”
Perfection as an idea was not introduced to me until grade school, when in my Mind, I was suddenly faced with the equation of survival and how everything fit into this equation. But I was immersed into a game that was already being played, with players far more experienced, no rulebook, nothing can or will be said about it, but you are forced to survive, left to fall in traps. Doing ‘more’ in less time, cutting corners, omitting sections, seemed more and more attractive when I began to fall behind with the pace at school.
I had to be serious now. That was the message I received when I arrived in grade school: every single test would allegedly determine my survival in the future. I wanted to do better, be ‘more perfect’ to be ‘ahead of the line’ but the more I was ‘serious’ about my studies, the worse I did. The more I disliked spending those moments learning the material, the more ‘angry’ I became at myself, when my survival depends on this one point. So being serious was attached to being perfect, in the belief that I had to ‘be serious’ to do ‘more’ and be ‘more’ as more perfect compared to others to ensure survival – for nothing more than that.
I developed a severe/solemn personality/character, to ‘whip myself into shape’ into more ‘perfection’. Before perfection, I was more physically grounded in the doing, practice. I was frightened when the more solemn I became towards ‘work’ – things which were ‘if I don’t do this I will starve’ – the worse I did at tests, and everyone’s lips are basically sealed when it comes to speaking anything to do with supporting ourselves individually in the competition for survival. I saw traits and academics as ‘work’ and the fear of survival compounded to a point where I interpreted EVERY SINGLE MOMENT as a moment where I could have done more work, to ‘better’ ensure my survival because through everyone’s participation, I am virtually left alone to figure out how to survive, the math equation of survival. Routine, how I was doing things, the attitude I approached a task I changed out of the excuse of fear of survival: I became paranoid that every moment wasted meant being closer to the divide between life and death as survival.