Two Stories About Regret and One Time I did it Right


Growing up my mother never really put priorities on things that didn’t directly affect her or me. Often, I’d warn her, or tell her about something I thought was wrong around the house and needed fixing. Most of the time she would answer that she was “working on it” or  she that she wants to fix it, but we don’t have the money. The wall? The sink? The electricity? All a problem for another day in her mind. Maybe she secretly didn’t want to tell me that she didn’t have the means to fix itthat she just didn’t have the will to fix it.

Growing up I developed a complex about life. It was short, and the things you love die quickly, and you get sad. And so, I tried to protect myself. In order to not be hurt, I would just detach myself from that which I loved. It was my “sure fire plan to not be sad when things go.”

Growing up I had pets. Many, many, pets had come and gone through my house. Not many diedmost of the time we would give them to someone else. Lizards, snakes, birds, guinea pigs, rabbits, dogs, scorpions,  frogs, turtles, you name it. Rarely, had I ever experienced their passing. Only one stuck around the longest. Only one had been truly mine. Monkey. No, not Monkey as in the animal. I named her when I was two and imaginative enough to befriend a coconut. I’m guessing you can guess where this story is going now, no?

Grown up, now I realize I have many regrets. As a child I was an idiot. Pushing things away didn’t curb the sadness like I had imagined… Well, as you could have guessed Mom did what she did best, and my dog did what any dog her age would do. The vet said she could be fixed, but before I knew it she was gone. I didn’t cry. I should have, but I believed my plan worked. I never forgave that woman. Her negligence, her refusal to listen, I blame it on them. Maybe, it wouldn’t have happened this way. I never forgave myself, and never will. Maybe that’s why I’m crying now.



I was a stupid kid, and maybe my friend is too because he listened to me. Once upon a time I had a best friend in the third grade.. Now this friend, one day, had the wildest idea to make a new friend. Of course, with this “new friend” he spent a lot of time, and that means the rest of our friend group felt a little left out.

Feeling rather left out, I took action. Action, meaning doing the only thing a dumb little kid like me could think up that grabs people’s attention. Swear. Don’t get me wrong, I was a goody-two-shoes growing up, but between friends we all get a little wild and the rules are a bit less strict… When the teachers aren’t around.

One fine day I may or may not have instructed one of my more innocent friends to say something rather vulgar to a certain friend’s face. Not, something that would hurt his feelings, but would make him pay attention to us. I love my friends and the last thing I would want is to drive them away.

Now, when I instructed my innocent friend to go up to others face he hadn’t noticed the principal walking by. I screamed. Running at top speed screaming and yelling for him to stop, I knew I messed up. The deed was done. The principal was just about to scold my innocent friend, but my friends don’t go down alone. If we burn we burn together. In a flash, I was in front of her taking the blame, going on about how it is all my fault, he shouldn’t get in trouble, I told him too,etc. In the end we both got in trouble, but at least it was together.


To say he is my friend would be nice, though, I can’t imagine he thinks so anymore. As a child I was dumb. Surely, I’ve said this a lot, but it has to be restated. Things were never in the correct order of importance to me.

I took for granted my friendship, and before I knew it he had moved. I cared a lot. Somehow I even got him to come back and visit, but even that I didn’t appreciate. The next thing I knew we’d gone back to old days. As expected, I didn’t focus on what is important. Now, he’s gone. Now, we don’t talk anymore. It’s ironic that I should feel sad because didn’t I do the same to him?


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