Why am I never good enough? "There's always ways to improve," you say. "You can always be better." So I go on. Improving myself in any way I can. But you still aren't satisfied. You say it all the time. "You're good, but...". Why can't you be happy with how I am now. Because you can't see I'm falling apart. Because no matter how hard I try to pull myself together, you always focus on my flaws, the cracks the broken pieces of me.
