Judy-be-damned
I have a god complex—
not the textbook kind with “an exaggerated belief in superiority, specialness, and infallibility, leading to a lack of empathy, an inability to accept criticism, and entitled behavior”—
but a variation nonetheless.
The kind where I grant myself no grace.
Where I can’t shake the compulsion, the need to be the best at everything.
Nothing less than perfect.
To be uncriticizable on every metric—especially by myself.
And if anything goes wrong, I am to blame.
No matter how big, how small, I am to blame.
.
.
.
How could I not have seen this coming?
Dustbunny-be-damned.
How could I let this happen?
Dustbunny-be-damned.
How did I not see your hurt?
Dustbunny-be-damned.
Why do I have so many fucking feelings?
Dustbunny-be-damned.
Why do I have so many fucking feelings?
Dustbunny-be-damned.
I should have been better than this.
Dustbunny-be-damned.
I want to be perfect, special, intelligent.
Dustbunny-be-damned.
Too flawed, too disappointing, too naïve.
Dustbunny-be-damned.
What’s wrong with me?
Dustbunny-be-damned.
I am wrong.
Dustbunny-be-damned.
I, I, I, I, I- how much more self-absorbed can you be?
Dustbunny-be-damned.
Dustbunny-be-damned.
Dustbunny-be-damned.
Dustbunny-be-damned.
Judy-be-damned.