I want to be free to make mistakes, but I don’t want to put them on public display.
I want to be able to experiment with things I desire to do but have not done, without the spectacle of laughing crowds. I want to try, as best I can, without judgmental eyes watching my every move. It’s ego, I suppose, and pride. All the attributes that suggest weakness and shame.
It should not matter, of course, whether others look at me and laugh. It should not matter whether my failures cause widespread smiles and pointing of fingers. It shouldn’t. But some days it does.
Those are the days of failure, abject failure. Those are the days during which pride would be a virtue, but it hides beneath a rock, slinking away at every footprint moving in its direction.