Flaws are quite normal to me. Every flaw tells where I lack behind, whether it's choosing appropriate words, sentences, or writing without flow. I don't know how to deal with it, but I accept having them. It couldn't be better suddenly but is improving with every passing day.
For me, every flaw carries a story with it. An incomplete tale which is surviving in any corner of the heart. I do admit my mistakes to end the story beautifully. Writing is helping me listen to those stories regularly. Now, I want every flaw to end as soon as possible.
Saying I admit my mistakes feels easy, but working on them to improve is much more difficult. I had admitted my imperfections many times but never worked on them before. Writing acted as a mirror and made me watch them which were neglected before. I try improving day by day, not only in writing but in life too.
Living with imperfections was not easy. A constant self-doubt always felt bad. Constantly facing hesitation and overthinking was making me more flawed day by day. A small effort to express freely was the first step to remove faults. It changed many things; it gave me a new viewpoint about myself.
Sometimes I had written unstructured thoughts without even a better flow. But I was determined to get better, which made me improve with the passing of time. I am not even perfect now, but juggling to be better today than yesterday. Small lackings tell me that I am practicing, not pretending.
I always choose execution over perfection. While executing things, mistakes would happen, which did happen with me at every point. But I didn't give up; I acknowledged where I lacked and worked on it. Every story is honest because of its faults, flaws, defects, and imperfections; perfection would end the story before its start.
Admitting was a choice; I made it a necessity to grow.
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