Standards

Perhaps it's true - as I've gotten the impression from certain people throughout my life - that I possess a certain air of superiority, and a tendency to maybe look down on others sometimes. But I've never really thought of myself as being all that great, despite going through life having people constantly tell me so. It's just that I have such high standards - and I hold myself to them first and foremost. So if others can't always live up to my expectations, it's not untrue that I myself frequently can't live up to them, either.

Time and age and experience has given me some measure of perspective, although I suppose my personality will never change. But I wish I'd realized sooner the difference between my standards and level of performance compared to that of the average. Somehow, being consistently graded near the top of my class wasn't enough; this is one of those unforeseen disadvantages of growing up in a good neighborhood and being surrounded by brilliant people. You're pushed to excel, and provided plenty of examples of what a person is capable of with dedication and proper support. But, then, nothing you accomplish is ever quite good enough.

But if I'd realized sooner what low standards a goodly portion of the population is held to (and holds to itself), I might have learned to settle for what I'm actually capable of, and find happiness and contentment, instead of feeding my anxiety about not ever being good enough. Or, then again, maybe not. Maybe there's no escaping my fate of being unsatisfied. That's the curse of perfectionism. Driven to be better, at the cost of feeling worse. Idiocy is bliss.

Love Is

Love is love.

But that? You can't call that love.

(Kinda defeats the whole point of the message, doesn't it?)