Regrets

Regrets. I have a few of them. Who doesn’t? They’re nothing major, but they’re still there.

I regret giving up my piano lessons.

I regret agreeing to get a tattoo on my lower back as an anniversary present (and being the one to pay for it).

I regret stripping the purple dye out of my hair, although in hindsight maybe that one’s not such a bad thing.

But I think my absolute biggest regret is not taking a chance on a relationship. For the rest of my days I will wonder what I missed out on. No one has ever known me as well as they do, and now it seems like such a waste. It could well be a very long time until someone knows me that well again.

The ironic thing is, I hesitated because I was so hung up on not ruining the friendship. Turns out a new girlfriend can have a very similar effect. We’re still friends and all, but it’s not quite the same as it used to be.

I should point out that he wasn’t just any friend, but one of my oldest and closesr friends. He wasn’t just anyone.

I had a plan and everything, had it all worked out. I picked a day where I was going to come clean, lay it all the line, Bridget Jones style. What I didn’t plan on was being told the same day that there was someone else (story of my life, that). Guess I waited too long.

If time travel was a real thing, I would go back to myself a few months ago and punch myself in the face. I’d tell myself to spend less time worrying and just go for it, that I didn’t have anything to lose. Well, maybe a small amount of dignity, but so what? If I’d planned my confession for just a few weeks earlier, who knows how things might have played out.

How often do you find someone that you can talk to for hours on end without ever running out of conversation? How often do you find someone with whom you can be yourself completely and not have to hide anything? After my experience so far I’m lead to believe, not that often.

Life wouldn’t be life without some regrets; some are acceptable, entertaining even, but some will haunt you. This one is the latter.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.