Regret

Like guilt this is a difficult emotion. It means you actively made a mistake – whether you own up to it or not is a different story. I feel like I regret a lot of things right now.

Not taking advantage of my support systems to help bring me down from the ledge.

Not considering the choices that I am making now – sooner. Career, life, everything.

Missing an already set up – ready to go opportunity to work on myself, years ago.

I regret not being able to be introspective enough to understand how much I was hurting and how much I was holding on to.

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Very rarely do I wish I have had some sort of “re-do” button. Even with all the other bullshit I did to myself. You are definitely the exception. I wish I could rewind almost every day so far.

I regret not being as straight forwardly communicative as I could have been – because I was EMBARESSED by the topic we were talking about.

I regret not letting you know how much being around you wanted me to improve my own mental health – my relationship with myself and mind (I just didn’t know how close I was to exploding – I was numb to it)

I regret not being able to speak up – there was a number of times that I had messages typed up on how I needed assistance. You were so stressed, so depressed, I didn’t feel like me as a person was worth enough to add to it. I could have used your shoulder to cry on a handful of times.

I regret when I was helping you move and I didn’t just grab you by the shoulders and tell you everything I had twisted up inside. That I lost someone, that I was hurting, that I needed help.

You were so damned special (and you knew it, haha) there is very little chance we see each other again. Whether or not you would believe it, that loss, that connection, sparked the drive to come to terms with just how sick my psyche was. If I wasn’t forced to suffer that intense pain – I think I would have just tried to do the same fucking thing all over again.

You were an amazingly bright light in that very dark point of my life. I only have excuses on my actions – mental crisis or not – that crazed, fixated, behavior was a ridiculously inappropriate form of my grief combined with how much I cared about you. I trampled over boundaries. It is the only excuse I have (not even a good one) but, I was sick. I am sorry.