Kelsie Blazier

I’ve come to look at perfection as an infection, a hereditary condition that’s found its way from my mother’s genes to mine. I am not perfect and neither is my mother. But that hasn’t stopped either of us from striving for and failing to attain, perfection.

This need for perfection didn’t start with my mother, and I doubt it will end with her. Two birds of a feather go down dark paths together, or something like that.

No, perfection’s infection did not start with my mother or even her mother. It must have started with her father, the ghost I hold responsible for our continued affliction.