Why Is Being Perfect Matter To Me?

I'm vulernable.
I want to be seen as emotionally strong,
Put together.
I say one thing,
And change my mind almost immediately.
I'm surrounded by people,
Who show they care.
But for some reason I feel empty,
Alone.
I strive for attention,
And approval from people who don't mean a thing.
I do stupid things,
And make plenty of mistakes.
I can't make everyone happy.
I feel used, unimportant,
Not good enough.
But yet I don't try to change,
Get away from the people who make me feel unimportant.
I see ignorant people,
And pretend I'm not one of them.
I lie with all my strength,
And feel guilty, stupid right afterwards.
I curse like I'm tough,
When I don't think I know half the meanings to the words I say.
I try to act like what others say,
Doesn't bother me, doesn't hurt me.
I try to act like it doesn't affect me,
When it feels like my worlds turning upside down.
I feel like I need to be perfect,
Or be judged.
I don't think I'll ever make it.
I don't know who I am anymore,
Who's worth it.
Or what I'm doing.
I just wish I could make it make sence.
Make life make sence.
Solve things,
Fix things.

I wish things were different.
See life from someone else's eyes.
No longer mine.