A fixed point

I’ve spent an unusual amount of my life in introspection—wondering who I am, what I’m for, and how I can be better.

The problem is that the deeper you go down that rabbit hole, the darker it can get.

For me, perfectionism combined with the fear of disappointing others to form a mental acid that quietly eroded my sense of self. It ate away the lights on the staircase as I walked down into my own depths, then eventually erased the stairs themselves. The harder I looked, the less I saw, and the...