I’m going to be honest, this is the fourth time I’ve written this essay. I’ll write a good two hundred words or so, thinking this is it, this is the one I’m going to turn in, and suddenly I’ll realise that I really don’t know where I’m going with any of it. You’d think writing five hundred words or less about yourself would be pretty simple, but it isn’t. My problem is that I’ve got it in my head that this is my one big chance to get into my school of choice, which means it has to be perfect. Well, I lie to myself, perfect is overrated.
I’ve never liked my flaws. I don’t think anyone really does, but that’s besides the point. Unfortunately, one of my key flaws is one that makes me hate my imperfections. A vice that hates vices, can you imagine? I’m still not quite sure when it started, when I got this feeling that everything I do has to be impeccable. All I know for certain is that the instinct is there now and I’m not a fan. Whether it’s writing an essay or painting a picture, I get the feeling that if it isn’t flawless it isn’t good. I create something that at a glance looks decent, but then I look closer and see flaw after flaw until I can’t stand it anymore.
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Of course not. It merely depends on the person. While one might say it leads to wonderful habits and actions, another might believe it ruins lives. In my case, I believe that while perfectionist tendencies haven’t ruined my life, I would likely be better off without them. I’ve lost count of how many notebooks I’ve filled with promising ideas that were simply ‘not good enough’ to pass my confounding criticism. I’ve just about lost my mind a million and one times because I couldn’t see something as anything more than unsatisfactory. As a kid, the phrase ‘you are your own worst critic’ never made much sense to me, but now I know that those words are some of the truest I’ve ever heard. The one person who’s harder on me than anyone I’ve ever met is