Confessions of a Murderer

I killed Miss Patty Perfect.

And I'm sure no one will ever miss her.

Who is Miss Patty? Where did I hide the body?

You see, Miss Patty was this chick that lived inside of me. She felt like she had to get everything right all the time. She thought that the love of those around her was dependent upon her ability to do the right thing and say the right thing all the time.

She felt like she was supposed to never need help, to be able to handle everything on her own all the time.

I did sympathize with Miss Patty because she did not wear her independence like a badge of honor. No for her, her independence was a cross to bear.

I will also admit to a bit of fondness for Miss Perfect. She is my ideal me. She is me at my best. She is the me that I aspire to be all the time. She is the standard that I set for myself however unreal.

But I am not her. I am a shadow of who she is when I'm at my best and a cheap imitation when I'm at my worst.

It's been hard to silence her. She was the best of who I wanted to be. She is who I dream of being.

But I am not her and she is not me.

And I had to kill her because she was killing me.