#atelophobia

[abusedghost]

Atelophobia

[eclectic-patisserie]

im procrastinating again…

how am i supposed to reach my highest potential if i continue to lie in bed, either doing nothing, binge-watching a series, or viewing media about how to stop procrastinating, though i don’t take heed to any information.

i wonder why i do the things i do

[ballerinagirl]

⊹˚ . ♱ 𝓚𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓱𝓸 𝓢𝓪𝓲𝓴𝓸𝓾 ! ♱ . ˚⊹

just angst ! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

atelophobia

the fear of imperfection. the fear of never being good enough.

the word 'perfect' was something in itself. it looked clean, put together—a random seven letter word that made people flattered when being described as such. to some, it was a compliment—something nice to say to someone. To others, it was an expectation, the bare minimum. to all, it was something people strived to be, even if everyone had their flaws. 'no one's perfect,' was a saying you'd hear from a normal person. normal. 

but nobody really wanted to be normal, right? he couldn't process it, thinking of himself so highly for so long. highly wasn't the right word for it. it didnt fit, he could make it try, stretching out the fabric—tearing stitch after stitch, the thing he had worked so hard on. no matter how hard he tried, it couldn't. he didn't think of himself to be 'highly'—he wanted to be highly. he pushed himself to be the best of the best, but it was never enough—it’d never compare to the expectation.

reality would never compare.

but he still tried, even if the constant pressure of being extraordinary left his body sore—his head aching, muscles tensed. the experience left a bitter taste in his mouth, not like a weird after taste or the nagging feeling of a temporary sore throat—it was an overwhelming taste of guilt. of sadness. of doubt. of disappointment—the constant fear he’ll be second place for the rest of his life. soon, the competition just left him tripping off the pedestal, getting upset over simple mistakes and causing newer, more bigger ones.

after all, a normal person can only take so much. because that’s all they’ll ever be. normal. average. second place.

dividers ૮(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ྀིა ♡ જ⁀➴ @aquazero

[sparkle-robin-4]

I best friend just asked if I have atelophobia, and darn it after some research I'm pretty sure I do

[angelspurging]

atelophobia

- the fear of imperfection. the fear of never being good enough

[bassiespurpleflowers]

Mini Glisten comic(full pages underneath)

[poetry-writer]

“Ninety-Seven”

I haven’t slept in a week, hours bleed into each other, darkness stretching too wide, mind racing in circles, rest slipping through my fingers like sand. The night hums louder than my thoughts, but I’m wide awake, trapped inside a storm that never lets me forget the three points I missed.

Ninety-seven. Close, but not clean. Not perfect. Not enough.

No fuel. No shortcuts. Just sheer panic and whatever scraps of discipline I haven’t burned through yet. My body begs for rest. I tell it, “Later.” But later never comes.

No one’s breathing down my neck. It’s me. It’s always me. Saying: “You should’ve done better.” “You should’ve known that.” “You’re slipping.”

I don’t celebrate wins. I dissect them. Where did I stall? Where did I break? Why wasn’t I faster, sharper, more?

I’m not chasing a grade. I’m chasing silence, from that voice in my head that turns almost-perfect into failure with a smile.

I haven’t been productive. Just surviving. Just existing in a blur of checklists and guilt. Waking up tired, going to bed wired, and lying there, counting all the ways I’m not enough.

Nobody asks this of me. Nobody has to. I’ve built this pressure myself, brick by brick, expectation by expectation. And now I live in it, walled off from rest, from ease, from peace.

They say burnout means you’re done. But I’ve burned through that and kept going. Dragging what’s left of me through the smoke and the ruin just to chase a number that never says “good job.”

I am beyond burnt out. And still, I keep committing arson against my own brain, lighting fire after fire just to prove I can take the heat.

[porcelique]