This piece is quite personal. As someone who has finally realized the importance of mental health and self-care. I am currently experiencing the "mother wound" and am in the stages of my mid-life crisis at 15. This poem brings to life the internal feeling, thoughts, and emotions of someone experiencing such.
This perfectionist thing didn’t mean you need everything to be perfect: it meant always setting realistic standards for yourself that you can never meet so you're never going to feel enough. No matter how much more you have or do or become you will still in some ways be inadequate. Your life turns into just constantly looking for mistakes. All you feel from the second you wake up is exhaustion. Trouble breathing, panic attacks.
At school, you feel so unnecessary and replaceable, like every fibre in your body is depleted. A constant loop of self-hate. When you bring up the topic of poor mental health, the words you'd get in response are “You're so privileged”.