I am not a perfect person.
No one is perfect. We all make mistakes. We all say things we regret from time to time, or sometimes more often than that. And yet, I find myself almost always more willing to accept that other people aren't perfect than that I am not perfect. My own failings bother me so much more than the same failings would bother me in someone else.
My entire life, I have been a very talkative person. I talk a lot, I say a lot of things, and I all too often say exactly what I'm thinking with minimal filtering. And unfortunately, what I'm thinking is not always nice. Sometimes what feels even worse is saying only a part of what I'm thinking in the most blunt way, only to realize later that I may have hurt someone I care about's feelings or been misunderstood in a way that I do not intend to be.
For some reason, it is very hard for me to let go of moments where I wish I had said something differently or not said anything at all. There are still conversations I had with friends in 3rd grade that I remember word-for-word, because I hurt someone's feelings and I regretted it.
