I'm losing my grip on reality.
Conflicted between what I feel and see.
It seems the whole world is out to get me.
I go numb to survive, to merely be.

I find myself oft in this lonely state.
While those around me believe things are great.
Internal turmoil has grown much of late.
I hide it all behind these walls and gate.

I know in my head that things are just fine.
Many are worse off, so why must I whine?
In my heart, though, I completely resign,
Unwilling to release these woes of mine.

To ease my pain, I'll make you laugh out loud.
My humor sedates the growing dark cloud.
But as of late, my despair is unbowed.
Happiness for me has been disavowed

End Quote:
"Perfectionism is a refusal to let yourself move ahead. It is a loop--an obsessive, debilitating closed system that causes you to get stuck in the details of what you are writing or painting or making and to lose sight of the whole. Instead of creating freely and allowing errors to reveal themselves later as insights, we often get mired in getting the details right. We correct our originality into a uniformity that lacks passion and spontaneity."