An Ironic Realization

So I realize I'm sort of stingy, especially when it comes to critiques. Considering I've come to terms with failing— of course— taking note of the valuable lessons but not getting caught in them, I can't seem to accept critiques the same way. Failing is on such a higher level because— you know— there's actual loss involved. But critiques, critiques are there to improve yourself, to prevent another failed attempt. But I think that's just it: failing is sometimes inevitable, as long as you tried your best, the odds are no longer in your grasp. It's an idea I'm fine with: I know I've put in my all, I know the fate I face is a coin-flip. But when it comes to criticism, it feels like your work is at the mercy of another person's hands. Nothing is ever perfect, no one's mind is ever the same, not one thing is free from criticism. But if you're like me, you take pride in your work, so it just hurts more to see it get shot down. And when criticism is exchanged, you come to realize that maybe that isn't your best work, that you can do better, that your work isn't good enough.

For me, criticism is a hard pill to swallow. That would explain my habit to not open my social platforms after I post something on it— after I post a part of myself. The human mind and preferences are hard to understand sometimes, maybe not knowing was better.