Since childhood, I’ve played sports simulators. I usually do it while doing something else — repeating the same action over and over on autopilot, while my mind is occupied with something more important.
When I play NBA, I often make my first five or six shots without missing. But sooner or later, a badly chosen angle or some small mistake breaks the streak. I still end up playing a great match and enjoying it. But if I happen to sink twelve or more shots in a row — that’s when trouble starts. Every next throw feels heavier: what if I miss and ruin the streak? What if I just play it safe?
And sure, I could play it safe. But think about it: I’m talking about a game that means absolutely nothing and that I’ll never tell anyone about — yet this meaningless streak still ties my hands, replaces fun with tension, and makes me angry at myself when I finally miss. Although, to be fair, the second miss already doesn’t bother me.
I think that, in life, we often lack that first mistake — the one that frees us from the burden of perfection and lets us focus on doing the best we can, instead of trying to stay flawless.