Sometimes I try so hard to make sure everything’s perfect. It’s mentally and physically draining for me and it doesn’t even feel rewarding anymore. For example, I keep obsessing over my choice of words and grammar when I write, regardless of where and what I’m writing on – blog, photo caption, twitter, emails etc.; recently I got extremely crazy about the photos I take that I would conceptualize and think about ways I would edit or enhance the photos I took seconds after I push the shutter button; I find it hard to publish any of the songs I’d recorded because I find them flawed, I don’t even play that much anymore because I’m sick of making mistakes; heck I even spent hours cleaning our communal bathroom for the first time since we moved in a year ago until I almost passed out because the doors were shut tight while I scrub everything down.
My obsessive compulsiveness is driving me crazy it’s almost a disease and I need to stop trying so hard. Perhaps the reason I tried so hard is because I’ve seen so many successful stories of people who have achieved so much at such young age by having a reputation both in the social media platform and the real world as musicians, photographers, bloggers, cooks, designers, entrepreneurs etc. and it baffles me why things haven’t been working out for me. I want to make something out of nothing too, am I being too wishful? Perhaps I am and it’s deterring me from truly enjoying the things I used to love doing. It’s not healthy at all.
I’ve decided that from now onward I will stop seeking for perfection but instead reap satisfaction out of all the things I do. When I write something, I want to make sure it’s what I truly feel and not what people want to hear – screw the grammar too while I’m at it. If I’m taking a picture I don’t care if people are actually going to appreciate it, I’m doing it because I think it’s aesthetically pleasing. I’m going to sing and I’m not going to care if some trolls think my voice sucks, I know it’s relatively good. Heck I don’t even need to make sure everything’s in order, let the beauty of chaos take over sometime. Go with the flow, be spontaneous and go over the edge if I have to.
Perfection, you piece of junk. Stop fucking up my life.