I am an artist. I tend to pay attention to minor details, alot.
I observe, I scrutinize, I contemplate correcting the imperfections. I go by my instincts. It is a thought in silence. I do what I feel is right.
It's an up close process.

Occasionally, despite not having corrected every detail I intended to, I am compelled to stand at least 2m away from the canvas, to look at things as a whole.

It's only from that distance that I realize the bigger picture, and the mistakes which are more apparent. The details which are missing. Choosing the wrong details to have worked on. Making the wrong moves. Realizing the right ones.

It is a grueling process. For a perfectionist, it's depressing when you realize that there are too many grave mistakes to work on. As a last resort, I would contemplate tearing it up, and starting afresh.

This thing that's bothering me, is driving me to that edge. But no, I shall work on it some more. Just because my instinct tells me it can be worked on.

Maybe it is meant to be this difficult. Because masterpieces take years of hardwork and a shit load of patience.