Perfect doesn’t exist.
We’ll make mistakes. We’ll fail. We’ll embarrass ourselves.
Something is bound to go wrong.
But shouldn’t we expect that?
Nothing is ever perfect, and if something appeared to be, wouldn’t it feel manufactured and fake?
Embrace the stumbling and staggering and blindly wandering into the dark woods ahead.
Embrace not knowing the exact way.
You’re not alone, nobody else does either.