Could do better. (My school report – any year.)
Every now and again I see (or hear) something (some art thing), and I say to myself: “I’d love to have done that” / “written that” / “created that” / etc.
And I begin to yearn. To wish. To regret. Again.
And then I start finding little flaws / blemishes / imperfections / faults in the thing that had initially won my admiration.
And one day it dawns on me. And I begin to understand.