Perfectionists are their own devils.
I think if I took therapy, the doctor would quit. He'd just pick up the couch and walk out of the room.
I remember one time in my junior year, in my art class, our teacher had us doing, like, finger paints, and I went and put a stripe on a girl's shirt, and it turned into a big paint fight. Paint all over the walls, all over everybody. It was pretty fun.
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