Someone close to me said that all the time. It got on my nerves. Made me feel like I was good. But not the best. It was very important for me to be the best.
The thing is I like the idea of perfection.
Take this blog. I wanted to start writing again, when things were perfect. At their ‘best’ again. It’s just taking so long to get there though. And I am starting to think that maybe imperfections are more interesting to write about anyway.
I am starting to think (sheepishly) that best is the evil of good.
And that maybe good is ‘good enough’ for new beginnings.