It's funny,
In a kind of sick, backwards way.

I used to be so set on everything being perfect, and I wouldn't be content with myself until I knew I tried to get it right. It's weird... The first time I was 'good,' not 'great,' I cried. Oh, what I'd do to be 'good.'

And I'm still the same...I guess.
I'd like to be perfect,
Or at least close to...
I'd like to be good at everything,
But I lack the drive that I used to manage so well.
I've stopped caring,
It's broken,
And I can't bring myself to *want * to fix it...