No one Cares, Mommy.
When I was knee-deep in formatting Lennamore, I was agonizing over the cover, trying to edge my name to the proper space over the picture, playing with incredibly subtle differences in colors, tiny things, that to me, had become massive distinctions between good and tacky. I grunted in frustration and my five-year-old looked at me and said "No one cares, Mommy."
I took a breath, acknowledged her wisdom, and said "You're right. No one is really going to care" and uploaded the file. It was freeing. And it was absolutely true that no one was really going to anguish over the difference between buttercream yellow and goldfinch yellow. Why was I wasting my time on it? Why did I try and hold myself to perfection?
Perfection is unattainable, exhausting to pursue, and quite frankly, those who try and fake it are annoying. All the fun and adventure to be had in life is in the imperfect moments-- when you miss the turn but find something better, when things go wrong but you realize you're strong enough to fix them yourself, when you make a fool of yourself but your moody teenager laughs and it becomes a story you share for years.
The truth is, no one really cares when you are imperfect. They either have the wisdom to know that they aren't perfect either or they are too busy trying to be perfect themselves to even notice.
Don't be perfect, don't try to be perfect. Because no one cares, mommy.