Perfection.
The word rolling back and forth over my tongue,
like a spiked pendulum.
I wanted it.
I wanted to feel it roll through my body.
They call me a perfectionist.

1st grade spelling tests,
Studying for hours like the SAT’s
An 80 was failing for me.
I wanted to draw a smiley face
In the zero’s in my 100’s.
A 100 meant I would put it on the fridge,
Held up with an alphabet magnet.

I was just a little recreation gymnast but,
I wanted to hear the word perfect role of my coach’s tongue.
I watched videos and trained.
Trying to get a perfect handstand.

I wanted to be the fastest runner on the team.
Running as if my hair was on fire.
I wanted someone to say I was on fire.
Crying through the race if I knew I wasn’t being perfect.
A few seconds less,
A complete failure.

I wanted to be the child who could paint as good as Picasso
To be the child who could write as good as Shakespeare.
I wanted to be something.
Something always more.

Doing something wrong made a nuclear bomb explode in my heart,
My organs swashing around like soup,
Only held up by my shaking skeleton.

Perfectionism wanting me to alter myself,
like designing a video game character.

I cried at every picture of me,
Watching my eyes go in opposite directions.
I’d squeeze them shut until the flash lit up my face.

I covered blemishes like covering up evidence,
Making my makeup look perfect.

It only took awhile before,
Anorexic bounced around on my tongue,
Like the way food did before spitting it out.

It only took a few more pounds, before I’d be perfect.
Trust me just a few more.
They didn’t understand,
Just trying to be healthy.
Drinking a gallon of water before each weigh in,
Trying to fake the scale.
It only took 115 pounds, 5’6,
Before I noticed my organs failing.

Perfect,
Perfect,
That’s all I’ve ever wanted.
Am I perfect now?