It wouldn't take a genius to figure out that Kid is enthralled by the idea of perfection, which is apparent in his obsession with symmetry, especially with how he considers it 'perfect'. In fact, even a toddler would be able to point it out after a few seconds. Everyone and their mother is aware of Kid's extreme love for things that are neat, tidy, and symmetrical -- in his words, 'absolute perfection'. However, it probably would take a genius to figure out that Kid is very aware that he himself isn't perfect.

He doesn't say it often, but when he does, it's a nightmare for everyone else around him. Liz and Patty aren't very sure how to calm him down after such a breakdown, themselves. He'll get on the floor and start crying about how he isn't symmetrical, therefore meaning he isn't perfect and should die. Whenever Liz and Patty try to 'comfort' him, it's really just saying the exact opposite of whatever he claims, so saying that he wasn't actually ever reassured was plausible.

...but Liz and Patty aren't around to help redirect him this time.

Kid sat on a bench in the park, his head in his hands and his right foot tapping rapidly in anxiety. His breathing was ragged and unsteady, on the verge of what one might call hyperventilation. He had seen his reflection in a puddle by accident. Usually, he would be able to ignore it... but this was different.

"I just want to be perfect... I wish that I never had these stripes... stupid stripes... getting in the way.."

He was gasping for air at this point, squeezing his eyes shut.

"...I'm asymmetrical... asymmetrical garbage, I should just die... die... oh my, I-"

He could start sobbing, and no one would care. Would they? He was almost tempted to do so. That is, until he heard soft footsteps slowly approaching. He held his breath, unconsciously, wondering who was approaching him at such a time.