Somebody asked me, wouldn’t it be nice to have a rewind button for life? And initially I would say yes. There are tons of things that I could have done differently, better, or not at all. But after having sat here, confronted with some of my decisions, I say no. I would not want a rewind button. I have done the things I have done. Made the decisions I have made. Said the things I have said. Because that was who I was then, I did what I did as best as I was capable of. It’s quite often not pretty, or likeable, or even admirable. But it was all me, without the supposed magical gift of hindsight. So I claim my regrets gladly, knowingly and will continue on.
Acceptance, however, does not preclude wishing things had been different. That is the nature of regret. Idly, at least once a day, I envision a world that is not shrouded in secrecy and intrigue, and varying levels of trust. I can indulge in such nonsense in my head, because while the reality of such a thing would frighten me beyond belief, the idea is theoretically perfect. I would not have to wonder when I was treading too heavily, I would not have to worry about the things you are saying to other people, that you feel you cannot say to me. I would not have to carefully pick over my actions bit by bit to piece together which one caused which problem. Ideally…perfect. But in reality, no one is strong enough for that kind of disclosure. Not even me, even though I want it. I want it despite the hurt, because, perhaps mistakenly, I figure it has got to be better than the wondering.
I can sit here and say all the things I have been holding back. I can sit here and say that I want to listen to you, no matter what is in your head. I can sit here and say that I am sorry for hurting you. And none of it matters, if you are not listening. If you are not willing to believe me.
Now. If I could just take these words to heart, just as much as I would urge you too. Everything would be ideal.