Perfection is a very tricky business. There is give-in and insistence, when to push, when to pull, when to focus, and when to look away. You must pick your battles and manage your time, energy, and effort. You must optimize results, accept certain traits as perfect, and re-evaluate previous approaches and principles.
Constantly, all the time. Without a break.
You have to accept others don’t have that kind of focus on their own flaws. They may be 100% focused on you and your flaws, the same as you are, while gleefully ignoring those of their own. They may feel no conflict when that’s pointed out to them.
Whether I am perfect is my business. Do you find my effort sufficient? It is your business. But it is not your business to start forcing corrections. You can make suggestions, but I will make the corrections if I see fit. My perfectionism is my business, not yours. Your perfectionism is your business, not mine. And if you are not a perfectionist, we cannot be very good friends because I will be watching my step with respect to you, while you are not bound to return the favor. The balance will be off, and I won’t intend to lower my bar to battle things out like a common field hog just so you could have me as a friend. I have been pushed to that state, but that’s where friendship ends, not starts.
I no longer hold myself to the virtue of loyalty. I stopped seeing it as a virtue. It’s rather a collar and a leash that you give the lead to anyone who wants it, really. No. I’ve removed my collar. People still try to find the lead out of old belief it is there, but I’m not budging. The collar is off and I won’t put it back on. I’m in your corner for as long as you make it worth my while. You better be worth your own shit, man, lady.
I no longer accept outsider criticism as much as I used to. I used to take everyone’s feedback as valid, but I realized that the people most vocally judging you are much more focussed on your flaws than their own, and their logic goes somewhat “if you have one tiny flaw, and I have one tiny virtue, that proves you’re not perfect, and I’m not perfect, therefore, we’re equal.” Nuhhuh. Not how that math works, people.
Am I bitter? Yes. Do I deserve to be? No, not really. Even when it’s not your fault, it’s still your fault, I believe. I let that happen. I wasn’t aware enough. My bad. I’ll be less forgiving from now on.
