You a bitch.
I wish you’d go away.
You turn to one simple funky project into a whole ordeal.
Perfection. Do you know how much paper you have wasted?
No really. In my lifetime, you’ve probably ruined 60 trees in your quest to “scratch that and start all over”.
I have ruined notebook after notebook in your name. “One smudge and you’re outta here” is your motto.
And I’ve have been playing this game with you all my life, I’m out.
Lose my number. I don’t wanna hear from you no more perfection.
Sometimes yo’ hoe ass won’t even let me start no got damn projects on that count that “it’s gotta be perfect”.
No fuck that. It’s gotta be started mothaphucka!
No more wasted time perfection.
And you could tell yo’ lil’ bal-head friend overthinking to sit his goofy ass down somewhere too.
I don’t need none-uh-yall. Cuz both yall got me over here looking dumb.
And to think, at one time I thought you was my friend perfection; I thought we was on the same side.
I thought you was here because we both agreed we like things done a certain way but i’on never remember us agreeing we wasn’t gon do shit at all. The fuck?!
I had thought you was cool because when we first start goin to interviews after college and the recruiter would generically ask, “So what are your weaknesses?” We’d hit ‘em with the “perfection” as I bat my eyelashes – knowing that to some, perfection wasn’t a good or a bad thing.
“Oh, she likes to do things right the first time, eh? We like her”. I’d trick them.
Have them thinking this is not a weakness. Whole-time you was ruining my life; cripplin’ my ass.
I hate to say this but you and the devil go hand-in-hand.
The only difference is, you disguise yo’self in a cute lil’ 3 syllable word but yall is really the same people.
Who else has such power over a person to convince them that while their idea is good they don’t have the plan, the money, the resources, the talent to pull it off?
Who in their right mind would sabotage some shit before it started? I tell you who.
The devil. And that’s why yall friends. Because perfection don’t know shit about faith.
You’ll sit yo lazy ass here all day just thinking of a masterplan and first-time something go wrong, you wanna bail on a nigga. The fuck type a relationship this is perfection?
Better yet. Hoe why is you still here?
I’m damn near 38 yrs old and though it took a long time, I’ve been hip to yo bullshit for bout 5 years now.
But I must admit, you kinda slick wit it so I don’t always recognize yo slimy ass.
Sometimes you’ll sit up here and play like you procrastination but bitch I see you!
I know boff yall like the back of my hand.
From now on, when you come my way, I’mma head in the opposite direction.
If you was on fire perfection, I wouldn’t spit on you. I’d just stand there and watch yo deceiving ass burn.
Burn, like you tried to do with this book idea I’m currently trudging through.
In conclusion, yuh momma.