I'm a lazy perfectionist. Quite possibly the most unproductive qualities you could ask for. I want everything to be perfect, yet I can't bring myself to chug through something if there is even the slightest possibility of it falling short of the impossible expectations I set for myself.
So then I settle.
And by settling what I create becomes just a shell of what could have been.
By my perfectionist nature, everything I create I end up loathing.
It's a viscous cycle that eats away at my conscience.
Forever doomed to be unsatisfied with no one to blame but myself.
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