I begin my first post with a story of regret. It feels only fair that, before embarking on a new journey, I get rid of the excess burden that I’ve borne for so long; it will only make the going easier. Being true to oneself is an uphill task; it takes a lot of courage and determination. It would have been easier to have hidden my rueful face behind a mask of false nonchalance, secretly wishing that life had had an edit button, but easy is not my style. Everybody has regrets, and by sharing mine, I hope to become a better and wiser person.
I was in the loneliest spot of my life when I met Woogly on Facebook. She happened to take a fancy to me; I rejected her friendly overtures at first, for I’m wary of entering into relationships of any kind; later, seeing her perseverance, I relented. I have no regrets that I took the risk of letting her into my life; she was every bit worth the risk and more. We were like soulmates; the same kind of tiny details served to make us happy or sad. Most importantly, we were both bruised souls and our bruises only served to bring us closer each day. The only difference I can think of is that she had a thinner hide than usual and I possessed the weapon that could wound thick and thin hides alike. For two long years (they really were long, for unhappy circumstances only serve to make time crawl) we shared our woes, our busted love-stories, family problems, the big and not-so-big disappointments, petty joys, everything. Though she was older, we each took turns being the mentor to the other. We laughed and cried together, shared our embarrassments and overcame many a crisis situation with help from the other. Whenever one of us was in a fix, the other was always available with her advice. We made and unmade each-other in countless ways.
And then, one day, the connection broke. I’m not really sure what went wrong, but since then, I’ve always held myself responsible for what happened. Everyone has skeletons hidden in closets; I was unafraid of mine being discovered, but she was of hers. That was when I felt like I’d been played. Here I was, ready to bare my all to somebody who I hadn’t even met, yet implicitly trusted, and that very person didn’t care enough to reciprocate my trust. The fact that she didn’t trust me, broke my heart and drove me insane. I began to feel that in her every word and every gesture, she was making fun of me. One thing led to another and our own little world of bliss finally fell apart. I forgave her later, for her lack of trust and apologized, but I realized that somethings can never be the same twice. So I let her go, as I couldn’t bear to hold on until I started hating her. Maybe our world was meant to last just that long; I’ll take my chances holding onto my belief that what comes back to me is mine and what I lose, wasn’t mine to begin with. However, I’m now ready to forgive myself for the regret that I missed my chance to tell her how I’d, after all, found myself and grown stronger, busking in her loving support. Instead of holding myself responsible for what happened, for the rest of my life, I’m ready to move forward with the hope that I’ll get a second chance and that I’ll be able to create something good out of it..