Perfection is a mirage to which I just keep on trudging.
Dragging my pen and plot behind me, I lug my anxiety-riddled butt through Cozy Mystery Land only one destination on my mind.
I refuse to stop at Half-Hearted.
I guffaw at Just Good Enough.
I disdain This Will Do.
…And I will drop dead at the feet of Exhaustion.
This has got to stop.