Submission.
As my hands hold the stack of papers, making sure not to squeeze too hard, not to put creases into the otherwise perfect stack of story, I cannot help but judge my work as, "lacking." Obviously, there is always more one can do when they are in the submission process, there is always another way to do something, another article to find, something else that can be done, for the act of submission is not admission of perfection, but actually that there is need for more. Acknowledging the overpowering force at times is difficult to a prideful man. Submission of another kind, the kind where we bow our heads, admit we are powerless to a person, place, thing, God himself, now this is the admittance that we are not in control, that we are imperfect to the utmost meaning of the word, that we recognize the need. Submission has this tendency to be depicted as such a discounting thing as though submitting makes you a lesser version, like an action going backwards. Instead of gr...