Being goal oriented
Is a good trait
But what if that goal
Is to control my weight?

In high school I strove
For each course to have a perfect grade
But in university that's tough
The perfectionism monster emerged from the shade.

The reflection in the mirror
Was its next victim to attack
You really don't look good enough
But losing weight is a hack.

Your grades might not be good enough
But at least you're not fat
Perfect your food intake
You can always excel at that.

I can do what others can't
Resist the temptation of food
Yet this mindset only gets me so far
Into the abyss goes my mood.

At first I feel powerful
Mighty and strong
"I'm better than others"
But this doesn't last long.

Because perfectionism takes over
The bully gets loud
One break of the rules
And I'm no longer proud.

I'm controlled.
Living inside my head.
Trying to enjoy life.
When I beat myself up for eating bread.

That's not life.
That's being a prisoner of your mind
A mindset that put me
One year behind.

Yet it's tempting to return to.
When you feel empty inside
When you're so upset with yourself
Not eating gives you pride.

Disappear.
Don't take up too much space
You're too needy, not worthy,
You can't even look at your face.

...

Yet deep down inside I know I'm not alone
I have friends and family that care
Who will help me defeat the bully
Pull me out of despair

I'm learning
Getting better at managing the voices in my head
So I can live life
Eat that piece of bread

It's a tug of war
But I'm learning it's okay
To not be perfect
To know I am worthy either way

Learning to control the expectations
To not have to turn to body control
To be at piece with my mind
And nourish my soul.

The old me is buried deep inside.
The bubbly, hyper, carefree parts of me have faded and disappeared.
Replaced by a demon whispering in my ear.

No longer can I look at food without calculating if it's safe to eat
My mind may tell me to not have it, but I have to accept it's okay to have a treat.
I no longer crave candy, chocolate or chips
The taste of anything too sweet is like poison on my lips.

"Don't think about it"
Excellent advice
If I could turn that voice off
That would be quite nice.

You cannot choose how your mind thinks
How it initially reacts
How in the mirror all I can see
Is layers of never ending fat

How others see the good in me
But I can only perceive my flaws
No matter how well I've done
It just doesn't seem good enough

Each activity I partake in is well overthought
Should I go out tonight? I have to study.
Productivity ties me in a knot.

There's always something I could be doing
Guilt consumes me if I'm not doing it.
But where to draw the line you see
When others have a similar, but not disordered, mindset.

Balance?
What is balance?
Others do it so naturally.
I have to schedule "fun time" and "time for me"

But the monsters of guilt taunt me
Along with Mr. Anxiety
Perfectionism erodes me
Being alive is tough you see.

I fight.
You do not see my battles.
Yet I fight every single day.
Some are better than others,
Some days the voices aren't quite as loud.

I'm never fine
Or truly okay
But I'm learning to accept that.

I can't let these things define my day.
I think I'm learning how to handle them.
So I'm sorry if my perfect exterior has been crumbled.
Or if you feel sorry for me.

But the last thing I want to be is a burden.




The more I learn
The more I can thrive.
So I can feel like I'm truly alive.
For I can't be fixed by a magic pill
Or immediately stop the voices out of pure will.

But I am strong.
I am persevering.
I hope through my struggle
I can help others
Gain vitality

I wear extensions on my head and get them glued to every last eyelash.
I wear makeup as a mask that i apply with perfectionism and wasted time.
and I wear what you'll like on my body
because there is a lot of me missing that I need to compensate for.

Ignore the veiled murmur beneath
the social graces and party conversation

excuse this bland ****** arrangement
feigning interest in tales worn thin
cruising the same old Memorial Parkway.

This, and the embedded gravel
marking each grim rotation:

expectation
disappointment
anger

the weight of relentless perfection.

I can't stop writing this poetry,
Because all I think of is poetry.
Phrases repeat temselves spontaniously.
Like trains coming continuously
Rhyme and metre extravagantly
Burst into flames explosively.
Twas I who consulted psychiatry.
OCD he said repeatedly.
OCD I thought repeatedly.

Then I broke free
From
Rhyme and.  Metre

And any rules really!!!

**** it?

Flower

Sunshine in the rain
Relax bro

Be open and throw **** all over the place
                    But do it with grace.

If she's not attaining the highest grades,
Nor feel like her body is adequate,

Then what is she?

Don't ask the voices in her head
As her thoughts are filled with poison and lead
Because they perceive
That if she can't achieve

She's better off never leaving her bed

I have an infection
I can't tolerate imperfection.

I've lived with it for so long,
But now I'm caught up in its throng

In elementary,
I cried when I got a B

In high school I took control,
And now I'm paying its toll.

Worrying, studying, crying,
As I feel the inside of me dying

Concerned about that extra mark
I ruminate on one percent in the dark

My self worth is tied to each grade,
97.5% and I am dismayed

This feeling's not right
Towards myself I feel spite,

I need to learn to be free
To reduce this anxiety

My thought patterns need to rearrange
With hard work and time I have no choice but to
change

I am not adequate
I'm never enough
For my own expectations
Which are incredibly tough

My imperfections and flaws
Are pointed out, for sure
Mental slave drivers don't pause
From their enduring hurt

Yet these expectations are invented by me
Nobody else says I'm not enough
From this mental state, I'd like to be free
I'm tired of this self-battering stuff

The demons are cackling
My self confidence is crackling

Weighing
     down
       my
         heart.

My disobedience they mock,
These imperfections are a shock.

As they shatter me apart.

Trying so hard to excel,
to be dropped in a well

What is any of this for?

To wallow in error,
Reignites the horrible terror.

Really, you should accomplish more.

They whisper negativity,
Prey on my insecurities,
Diminish my abilities,

A never ending cycle of not being good enough.
Not measuring up.

Perpetual exhaustion.
Perpetual dissatisfaction.
Perpetual degradation.

To fight this fight
To win this war
I must stay strong.
Let the positivity roar.

Today I was told.

I don't know who I am.

An absurd remark?

Perhaps.

Or a sad realization.

A slave to the grades.

"Do that for your resumé!"

Try harder, you must be the best.

Perfect, perfect.

From school to work to food consumption,

the slave driver in my head allows no interruption.

And what has this created?  What is this Frankenstein?

A girl involved in so much, yet without her own mind.

What are her passions?  What gives her real joy?

What's hidden behind that achievement ploy?

For now, there's no answer.

She's perfectionism's fine dancer.

Yet with some searching and fun,

The puppet show may finally be done.