How to make mistakes

There was this guy I once almost fell for who liked to use the word failure all the time.
But if you looked at him, you wouldn’t see any failure whatsoever. His life has always been nothing but a rapid succession of personal, professional and sports achievements, and still, if something didn’t exactly perform the way he had expected, he would call it a failure.

I’m sure that after I disappeared from his radar without a word, he must have thought that what didn’t happen between is still certainly a failure in itself as well.

You know, a waste of time.

I frequently get criticism for my nearly blank Facebook profile, for refusing to get a smartphone, for mocking people who use Whatsapp, for not taking selfies (no kidding: the social media strategy my friend Benedetto, a social media expert, recommended for this website basically consisted of showing my boobs on Facebook groups); hence, I would never offer you any advice on how to become a web star or whatever.

But mistakes.

Oh, man.

Mistakes are my thing.

It’s funny, in a way. For years, people around me wouldn’t have spotted a single mistake in my life (5’10” tall, a published book author at 23 and no criminal records), and at the same time, just everyone agreed that there was something wrong with me.
In other words, I was a mistake.
I spent my life apologising for the state of my hair, for not wanting a regular job, for listening to Take That.
Everyone agreed that I had great potentials but there was still and always something to fix.

But then I decided to break free from this shit and I stopped trying to justify my wrongs.

Straight from my personal collection of mistakes:

– Having thought, each time, that something was going to last forever. Especially tanning.

– Not having trusted my guts about that fatty girl who pretended to be a friend.

– Not having told my former-former-former mother-in-law that she’s always on my mind at Christmas and every time I spot some owl ornament she might like, because I loved and I still love her. More than his son ever loved me.

– Having thought that one of my two brothers is an only child. Still thinking it hard.

– Having let my friend Antonella persuade me that dating a lifeguard was going to be fun and not pathetic.

– Refusing to accept that probably I will never really regret the most idiotic thing I’ve ever done in my life.

– That purple dress.

– Having said fuck you when I didn’t mean it and not having said it when I did. So. Many. Times.

– Having said I love you. First. Each time.

Love your mistakes. All of them. Always.

Because only those who never risk anything don’t make mistakes. Those who never risk anything are all about failures, but not mistakes.

Because it takes bravery to make a mistake.

It means you tried for something.

★ If you enjoyed this story and want to read more utterly depressing articles, try this, this and that

Little girl jumping rope in a violet orange sunset


About The Author

Founder of The Shortlisted Magazine

The one behind the wheel.