June 28th, 2013: Write about small regrets.
Sometimes quick, sometimes unbearable, each day we cope with the brain’s single most flaw: it’s inability to predict the future. We can never truly know how we will feel immediately after an action is taken; we can’t possibly be sure that each and every choice we make will be void of anger or shame.
A forgotten thank you; an overlooked opportunity; a fear driven no; a drink too many; a misread sign; a too-short haircut; an email sent in anger; a seatbelt unfastened; a broken alarm clock; a late departure; an eager kiss; a see- through bathing suit; an impulse decision. The makings of regret.
Perhaps the most difficult emotion to overcome, it eats and eats and eats away at your insides, emptying you and filling itself, only strengthening its power. Questions stream into the human consciousness: Why? How? When? Embracive self-ponderings fuel it’s rage, continuing to devour until what is left is no longer a man, but regret itself, embodying the existence of its victim.
A man does not have regret.
Once it is welcomed and fed, he becomes regret.