I am amazed at how imperfect I am, and yet here I am, somehow typing on a keyboard to write words to form sentences to for a paragraph that comes to a point.

It’s been tough to write the past couple of days because of this. I’m so imperfect that I can’t see the imperfection I personify.

And so we return to the concept of meta, and its crippling effects on anything if not used in moderation. Like all things if not taken in moderation.

And with this throwaway post, I restart once again.