Albert

Everything had to be perfect. This thought has killing Albert whenever he was doing something. He often gave up things because he could not reach the perfect image of that which he had created in his head. Albert would never be a painter or musician because there are too many hours of imperfection that one has to face to get to a decent skill level. He found it teriblly irritating. That feeling crawled up un down his body under his skin and made him sick. He could hide that from others quite well but what was left uncovered was a sudden burst of anger here and there. Like small fireworks they were over soon and Albert was back to his composed self. That left some people puzzled, astonished even but in most cases was seen just a funny side of his character. No one knew how much effort he put in keeping his thoughts tidy and organized and how miserable he felt after each of the outbursts.