I feel utterly miserable, thoroughly dissatisfied and filled with a nagging feel of inadequacy and self-doubt every time I read back what I have written.
The same feeling of remorse overtakes me when I ponder over most of the activities undertaken by me.
Many errors of commission and omission could have been avoided with a wee bit more of alertness.
Excessive sense of self-importance, self-assuredness coupled with laziness and lethargy has played the spoilsport.
A sort of arrogant but baseless feeling that most of the people around are not at all smart or at least are not smart enough, had prodded me, lulled me into sure shot pitfalls.
Yes, every review, every revision, makes me feel ashamed, contemptuous of myself, my own actions.
Anyway, will that feeling of revulsion about my own ineptness stop me from committing further follies?
No, I trudge ahead, with more follies, falls, fractures, fall again, repeatedly.
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