Regret is something I know too well. As I grow and change, I find it more prevalent in my mind than ever before. There are the little things, like gnats that buzz around, and then there are the big things that make me want to curl up into a ball and never see a human face again. I wish I could shout to the world how much I’ve changed. How much I regret–there’s that word again–all the stuff I’ve done before, even stuff only a few months ago. If my life is a piece of paper, it’s like I’ve spilled a can of hot pink glue on it. Hot pink because it represents tackiness to me. Tackiness and immaturity.
I was immature. I didn’t treat people they should be treated. I interrupted a lot. I talked too much. I was whiny, self-pitying, and always needing to be the center of attention. There are so many other things that I would add, but of course I won’t go too much into specifics, because a.) that would take too long, and b.) I don’t even want to think about it anymore.
The last thing I want to hear is, “Oh Abigail, it’s been so long, you haven’t changed a bit!” Even if it’s a well-meant statement. Because I have changed–maybe for the better, maybe for the worse. I feel like a completely different Abigail now, in a lot of respects. I’ve learned to comply a little more; at the same time, I’ve learned how to stand up for myself. I’m more in touch with my pensive self. I’ve learned how to shut up when I need to, and when to speak out. My interests are different. I find myself not caring about the stuff that used to fascinate me. No, not in a depressed sort of way–it’s just that my focus has changed. My hobbies are different. I think a lot more. I journal a lot more. I take walks, I read, and I write. I write!
Time comforts me. The more time I can put between the present and the past regrets, the better. Things become less and less relevant later on, I feel. But time does not erase. Time fades. Bad mistakes will always be bad mistakes. Hot pink will always be a part of my piece of paper now. I hope–no, I know–that something beautiful will come of it.
I can’t take back all the old failures. I can only apologize and learn from them. So maybe, just maybe, regretful feelings can fade as well. We all have terrible things we want to forget about. One thing I’ve been trying to learn is that half of them aren’t even in people’s memories anymore. Nobody remembers that time in seventh grade I almost walked into a dumpster while I was adjusting my glittery hat. Nobody remembers that time I accidentally sang too loudly in my Troy Bolton voice. And then there are the things that I’m sure people remember. Those things are what get me every time. I guess, as I said before, they’re just a part of me now. Ruminating will get me nowhere, so maybe I’ll just put on a nice dress, go outside, and dance like life loves me back.