There is a particular kind of anxiety that hums beneath the surface of modern life. It is the quiet panic of posting a photo online, wondering if it is curated enough, polished enough, happy enough. It is the knot in your stomach when you drive a flawless new car off the lot, knowing its first inevitable scratch will feel like a personal failure. It is the pressure to be a perfect employee, a perfect partner, a perfect parent, all while maintaining an appearance of effortless grace. We live in an age that idolizes perfection, where glossy, digitally-altered images define beauty and success is measured in achievements without error.