on failures and insecurities

See that picture? I failed. Yesterday I found a great photo of this boy and decided to draw it. I prepared pencils and proceeded very carefully, comparing the pictures and smaller sections of them to each other... and nevertheless, I failed. I can't tell what's wrong with the picture. It's the position of the eye balls, and little incongruities of proportion...the hair, too, perhaps. No idea. At first, I liked it, and after seeing it on screen, I thought, no, this is wrong. This is not him. ...this is horrible.

Of course, you might say it's not bad, it looks alright. It's not like the photo, but quite similar to it. But I don't want it to look alright. I want it to be perfect. And this inner perfectionist of mine, it's not a careful little guy who gently corrects me when I'm wrong, who explains to me what's to be improved- no, it's a choleric, quick-tempered bastard who is never satisfied, who wants more, and more, and more. I am unthankful. I know all that, and yet I can't help reacting, even physically. After realising my defeat, I felt like I had a raging tornado stuck in the middle of my chest, trembling, weak, dizzy. Sick because I am not almighty, which is absurd. How is it possible to carry such a fear of failure inside, that makes the blood curdle and breathing hard? How is it possible that my greatest talent is neither drawing, nor writing, nor singing nor anything else, but upsetting myself?