Two Thousand and Fifteen
I regret not doing what I could’ve done. I regret doing everything to replace what I haven’t done. There was so much to regret. I was a very repressed person, afraid to take risks. I wanted to stay within my comfort zone as much as possible, which was very small.
Never have I liked opening another door, not when I already knew all the bad things that will come stumbling out along with the good ones. So I held myself back, always with the holding back. Denying what my subconscious tells me with a sharp “No!”
I think about all the things I never did and find myself imagining what could’ve happened under different circumstances. Thinking about who I lost because of it. Should I be thankful for what happened? Knowing I have changed because of that loss, that that particular past determined my present. Regretful? For I have lost that one good thing that happened in my life.
I always speak of progression, that as the clock ticks, moving me forward in time, I too advance, becoming a lot more better than who I was. But then looking at it in a more counter intuitive way, I am and have been trying to find a concrete proof that I am presently different knowing that my past will always claw at my feet and has the power to change me back again, effectively wasting all I have worked for.
I will always carry within a bag, as I journey to my lighthouse, all the memories, regrets and stolen moments, and an imitation in my imagination of that one good thing that got away. But for now I will always ask myself “Who am I? Who could’ve I been if I didn’t go through Two Thousand and Fifteen?”