I have no room in my dreams for regrets.
It’s actually a lie… a pretty, shiny lie. The truth is, my dreams are a graveyard of regrets. Each one is a tombstone marking the death of something I wanted, something I took for granted, something I didn’t appreciate enough, and something I lost.
I see these tombstones in the dark corners of my mind. There’s the one for the love I let slip through my fingers, so afraid of getting hurt that I pushed away the warmth of someone caring for me. That tombstone is huge and it casts a long shadow. Then there’s the one for the chances I didn’t take, the paths not chosen. They look like tiny, forgotten graves, but together, they make a whole cemetery of missed opportunities.
And there’s the biggest one of all, the one for the person I could have been. I see myself in the mirror, a stranger sometimes, and wonder where the brave, hopeful kid went. That kid got buried under layers of fear and doubt. That tombstone is a mountain, blocking the sunlight from reaching my soul.
It really feels like a never-ending cycle of what ifs. What if I’d spoken up for myself? What if I did it? What if I’d accepted that opportunity? What if I’d let myself fall?
And there’s anger too. I'm angry at myself for playing it safe, for letting fear win. Angry at the world for making some paths seem so narrow, for making choices feel so permanent. But under the anger, there’s hope because even though my dreams are haunted by regrets, they also remind me of who I am, deep down. They remind me of the life I still have a chance to build, maybe not the exact one I dreamt of, but one with some of that same courage.
I used to think that the only way to deal with these regrets was to ignore them, to pretend they don’t exist, but that’s like burying your problems instead of facing them. It doesn’t make them go away; it just hides them. Also, I used to cling to the idea that moving forward means leaving the past behind. However, what if the past is not something to run away from, but something to learn from? What if these regrets are not dead ends, but crossroads where new paths come together?
I’ve realized that instead of seeing my failures, mistakes, and regrets as dead ends, I can view them as beginnings. It might feel like admitting defeat, but it’s actually about finding the strength to move forward. Owning them isn’t about giving up; it’s about starting over. After all, it’s the only way to truly make peace with the past. By letting go of the baggage, I free myself to focus on building a future that reflects the person I will become through those experiences, both positive and negative.
This graveyard in my head is a wake-up call. A way of forcing me to face the things I’ve buried. Because how can I move forward if I keep tripping over my own regrets?
I can’t keep visiting this graveyard.
I can’t change the past, but I can change the future.
I can stop adding to this cemetery.
I can start planting seeds of hope instead.
Because maybe the truth is, it’s not about having no room for regrets. Maybe it’s about learning to live with them, to use them as stepping stones, not tombstones. Lessons learned, paths taken, even if they didn’t lead where I wanted.
This graveyard doesn’t have to be a graveyard. It’s about turning it into a garden, where new dreams can grow.
These tombstones are not the end of the story, but rather the beginning of a new chapter.
Planting new dreams among the old regrets.
Letting the sunlight in.
And letting new things blossom.
This graveyard is a reminder of the ground beneath my feet, the ground where new things can rise. I can use these regrets to plant seeds of courage and take a step, even a small one, towards a future that’s a little less haunted, a little more alive.
With that, I must learn to live with these regrets, to carry them without being crushed by their weight, as well as to understand that they’re part of the story, the whole me. And I will persist because in the heart of this graveyard of regrets, there would surely be a beginning of something new, something beautiful, waiting to bloom.
I should start digging.
