A poem waking up from perfectionism

In my garden my mother planted a seed.

The seed grew into a sapling.

Am I a failure?

It grew a bud

Is that why she told at me?

It took root and its dark trunk thickened.

That’s why people don’t like me.

It grew until its shade darkened my garden.

I need to do therapy to learn to love.

A failure like me

I need to learn to cook meals better than half the chefs in my city.

I need to snowboard to be cool.

I need to get a job and earn 200k before I date another girl.

I need to do mushrooms and fix myself or everyone will be hurt by me.

I need to

I need

I need love

I am love

The light pierced through the canopy

Showing me the garden sown with one lone tree

now I tend my garden

Growing in the garden I overlooked

in the gentle shade of the tree planted by my mother