I am a perfectionist.
I feel like I can’t, shouldn’t, mustn’t show other people my work unless it’s perfect. And it’s never perfect. Essays could be more expressive, better structured and better informed. Videos could be shorter, with better colour correction, with more in-depth research (but in a smaller time frame??). And don’t get me started on drawings or paintings. Eugh.
But it’s not just the things I produce.
I am unfinished. I am a mess, I am imperfect, I am a walking disaster. I am a work in progress.
Don’t look at me while I’m like this. I am not worthy of your time, your friendship, come back in a few years when I’ve got myself all figured out, when I’ve got my problems tidied up neatly and folded up in a trash bag.
Don’t enter the construction site. It’s dangerous. Keep out.
No. Let’s not.
I am a work in progress, but I am working on it. I am alive, I am breathing, I am thinking, I am changing. I’m becoming a better person with every breath I take, with every decision I make, and yes – with every mistake I make.
I am perfectly flawed.
Come closer, watch me soar, watch me fly, watch me crash, watch me pick up the pieces, brush off the dirt and start anew.
Welcome to the project life. I paint with all the colours, I draw outside the lines, I am messy, I am everything and more, just you watch me. Come in, come closer, join me. Be a part of this thing, I’m inviting you in, don’t mind your clothes, they’ll get dirty, we can wash them, we can try again. Let’s be messy, let’s have fun, let’s move forward.
Stop hiding behind a mask. My problems are my problems and my problems are part of me. Enter the construction site, just mind your head a bit. I will never be done, and my final breath will be the finishing brushstroke.
I am unfinished. I am a piece of art.