It’s truly pathetic how much of my life I spend longing after ‘what could’ve been’. Such a seemingly simple, basic thing becomes a source of endless misery and regret, when in theory it could’ve been so easy.
But now it’s too late. And I get to enjoy endless reminders of that fact. ”Hey look, it’s that thing that feels most vital and important in the world to you. Except now you’re past it. Too bad!”
Such a fundamental, elemental thing, and it still all comes down to right place, right time. You miss the boat, then that’s it. You get to live with your constant longing and regret. Tough shit. Life rolls on, and the next contender is ready and waiting.
But even back when it was the right time, I wasn’t the right person. It’s not like no-one ever warned me, ”Make the most of your youth, or you’ll regret it.” But I always thought I’d have more time to put myself together. I figured it would eventually just work out on it’s own, without having to go outside my comfort zone. Instead things just got worse and worse, and I fell further and further behind the curve.
The truth is I was so terrified of facing more rejection. I couldn’t take feeling any worse about myself. So I avoided any situation where I would have to risk being judged as inferior, and told myself that I would improve myself to the point where I wouldn’t have to fear that anymore. And in the meantime maybe happiness would just fall into my lap without me having to risk anything. So I wasted whatever opportunities were open to me, and now it’s too late.
I wish I could just forget it all and focus on what little remains for me, but unfortunately that’s not how feelings work. You want what you want. So I’m constantly causing myself pointless suffering, being reminded of it, and why I want it, and why I can’t have it.
I want to just stop, but…fear holds me back. I fear the experience of dying. I fear my consciousness somehow persisting, trapped with this regret and despair. I fear judgement and punishment. I fear the effects on my family.
And I fear letting go of the possibilities of this world, even though now they’re beyond me. While there’s life there’s hope, however delusional. Things could so easily still be good…if only life were simple. But it’s not. So I rot away, pointlessly suffering, waiting for something to tip me over the edge. Pathetic.