If we truly love someone, we would never call them a failure.
No matter how they had tanked at something they were enthusiastic about.

We would rather appreciate them for the relentless effort they made, how they overcame their fears, and the fact that they shipped instead of waiting for perfection.

Then how is it that we do not love ourselves enough to have a similar conversation, when we fail?

How would that change things? 

Failure is inevitable.
The conversation we have after that with ourselves, is a choice.