I could walk my dogs more often. I could eat better. I could workout regularly. I could write.

Whenever I think of an aspect of my life that I could improve (did I mention my credit?), I start to slip down this dark, dangerous slope of self-loathing. They, these shortcomings, don’t come alone, they come in waves. Like little tribes, they march through my head, a united force.

No wonder it is so hard to work on just one. Their power is in their numbers.

I have this idea of myself, this Platonic form of me, that lives perfectly in some other world, with all the other perfect forms. She is far away from me, but I hope to see her one day.