I’ve become preoccupied with that big question that surrounds success, I want to know ....what’s the sorting mechanism that divides the dreamers from those that live it?
Excuse me Mr Branson but how do you turn rags to riches?
Some people are perfectionists, they are all about the finished product. My boyfriend find's beauty in his £110 umbrella, it’s an investment against the rain a statement of style only other perfectionists would notice.
“It’s the tiny details” he says, the fine stitching of the leather round the handle, the hidden clasp that keeps it streamlined to the frame . It isn’t even beyond me to appreciate the expensive smell as it springs open its cover, I know I won’t get wet.
My achievements exist around my mess. They grow up around the space I’ve left them and I can’t help but wonder…..Are they smaller as a consequence?
I’ll spread my last crumpet with peanut butter, I’ll garnish it and then I’ll eat it greedily at the counter ignoring the thirst in the back of my throat that ruins my few bites and then my creations gone.
I’m empty.
I glance enviously at the calm colleague opposite me that remembered today’s deadline, she’s prepared slides and I shrink into my formica chair with a despondent squeak,
I’ll never be perfect, so tell me sweet success, will I ever own you????
I am cheered by the thought even Van Gogh couldn't paint when he started.
I think I've guessed the secret you know.....
Those perfectionists, they are no different to you or me, they just paint by numbers,
The masterpiece is made by those that dare to colour outside of the lines.
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