The symbol of my perfection - the tyrant Napoleon.
He lurks within my mind repeating his relentless mantra, "You are never good enough." You see, he is/was perfect. He was lover, conqueror and emperor. The world his oyster.
On the other hand, I perceive my world as a shattered glass box: delicate, fragmented and limited. I see the world in a distorted way. But don't we all? Still, I spend my time trying to put the glass box back together. Piece by piece. Feeling that when all is reconstructed then I will be perfect. My own lover, conqueror and empress. La Napoleone.
Unfortunately, I never seem to get there. But I keep trying and when I feel like I can't try anymore, the black dog comes: depression. In depression, there is no need for perfection. There is only the need to take the next breath. If indeed I even want to do that.
When the black dog leaves, I get up. I brush myself off and I start the reconstruction all over again.
Such is the nature of the tyranny of perfection: my own private Napoleon.
He lurks within my mind repeating his relentless mantra, "You are never good enough." You see, he is/was perfect. He was lover, conqueror and emperor. The world his oyster.
On the other hand, I perceive my world as a shattered glass box: delicate, fragmented and limited. I see the world in a distorted way. But don't we all? Still, I spend my time trying to put the glass box back together. Piece by piece. Feeling that when all is reconstructed then I will be perfect. My own lover, conqueror and empress. La Napoleone.
Unfortunately, I never seem to get there. But I keep trying and when I feel like I can't try anymore, the black dog comes: depression. In depression, there is no need for perfection. There is only the need to take the next breath. If indeed I even want to do that.
When the black dog leaves, I get up. I brush myself off and I start the reconstruction all over again.
Such is the nature of the tyranny of perfection: my own private Napoleon.
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