Regrets?
I was talking with a friend yesterday and the subject of regrets came up. We talked about where we live, who we dated, a child I didn’t have, opportunities we didn’t take etc…. On our deathbed what would we regret? So I’ve been thinking about that… What would I regret? First, you have to take abuse out of the equation because that’s not something that “you’ve” done. So put that in a cute little basket with penguins on it, I love me a penguin. I can’t “ regret” living where I’ve lived because, why? It was necessary at the time. Who I’ve dated… I mean, I would have thought of William for fucking sure but, do I ? I mean that whole breaking my shell, trying to commit suicide wasn’t him. It just happened to be the last straw. But, if I hadn’t gone through that I wouldn’t have had the tiny seed planted inside me that started the long process of naming and blaming who did what to me. It was the first time that I could say “ sexually abused” and “ my mother” in the same sentence. I couldn...