I’m the kind of kid that seeks perfection above all else. Not a single day has gone by without the constant need to feel perfect. The perfect role model. The perfect student. The perfect daughter. 

Unfortunately, that doesn’t leave a lot of room in life to make mistakes without having to carry the unbearable weight of “failure.” But, failure has never been an option in the little world I’ve created in my head. In fact, the idea of failure sunk with the Titanic to the deepest, darkest parts of my head. That’s why I need perfection… probably.

Being the perfect role model came from my parents. From a young age, they’ve taught me to have proper manners, how to talk to adults, and to be the one that people look up to. But some could say, “How does that responsibility fall on you if you were the youngest child?” It beats me. It’s the small things my mom would say:

“They’re watching you.”

“They look up to you.”

“They want to be just like you.”

It was suffocating. But, school wasn’t much better. The constant competition that fills the school confines me in a world where I have to be the best. The best at math. Science. English. Social studies. It’s the fact that my self-worth came from only seeing an A. How is that a way to live a life? 

Once again, my parents, also, indirectly push me into perfection. Academically and as a person. I’m sometimes grateful for them pushing me, but my accomplishments never seemed to be enough for them. They treated what I was proud of as something that everyone could do. It was‒slightly‒heartbreaking.

However, in the grand scheme of things, perfection can’t be accomplished. Not even a robot could achieve perfection. I’m the kind of kid that needs to learn mistakes are what makes me a person.