O how inspiring the woman who has troubles with perfectionist habits, she makes me feel less of a bum. When I could look at the many hair parts on the top of my head, and the empty roll of toilet paper without changing it o it is a wonderful thing. Can you remember the moment you know what to do only to begin right back where you left off? What of the re polished nail polish that was already too thick?
When I hear that sad trial of words about me from my boyfriend while I'm trailing in and out of sleep that makes my heart sink with sorrow, and then there is that moment when you can catch a glimpse of a turning point to a over do dwelling. Usually those moments come when you are deep in concentration and have to complete what you are doing or you're again right back where you left off and going no where.
Isn't it baffling when you work out and the pain is burning and all your senses go numb, your falling asleep, and you can only guess its from the thoughts that are jabbing at your mind at the time. When you look up from intensive work and you then catch the attention of a million forgotten memories and thoughts rising out of your bosom faster than you could hold them and the word focus takes place over the real focus.
The hairs that never stop growing, the dull razor blades, the unknown skills you can and cannot possess, and the blurred curiosity between seasonings and bland pizza. When its bland the cheese is rubbery, the sauce is skimpy, and the crust is cardboard. When its seasoned there is cumin, or fennel on the surface, and the cheese is white and tastes like mozzarella and you don't pay attention to the amount of sauce or the flavor of the complicated crust because you know already without a doubt it is good. Good. Good.
I left my cereal sitting too long and although the milk was still chilled, and the top floating O shapes were dry, over 98% were bland, and soggy just like the perfectionists imperfect life.
Kreyna1980
rawfiction1980
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