Regret. It’s such a beautiful feeling. For small things, large things. Conversations you wish went another way. That jacket at Barneys. A young man who could have learned to love. Working all the fucking time. That haircut. Not helping other people enough. Not writing enough down. Giving up on friendships, projects, the body electric. Did she say crumb cake? Not raising your hand once in college. The close call with Irwin Winkler. Oh, poor little lamb. I love licking my wounds.People who say regret is a wasted emotion are missing out.
Any regrets out there?
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When I was young, my first novel was called NO REGRETS. Now I know better!
Never moving to NYC ’cause of depression, fear, et al.
Sure, there are times when I could have been a better person. There’s still lots to do, though, and more energy goes to that. I don’t see much point in beating myself up; I’ll leave that to others, and there never seems to be a shortage of critics.
“Any regrets out there?”
Yep. You get to a certain age (results may vary), you enter The Age of Regrets.
The wasted time.
The wasted money.
The lost love.
As a writer, you might think, “No problem, it’s all material.” True enough. Here we are.
The fact that nobody gets through life without regrets is small consolation, so allow me to offer this:
Oh yes, big and small. There’s something about Regret visiting at night – usually when I wake up, and can’t get back to sleep. I tend to nitpick various conversations, behaviors, and actions. (or lack of) For some reason, those middle of the night ruminations with Regret always morph into something much bigger than they are to me in the light of day.
3am is the fucking worst.
Agree
you got that right.
I regret wasting energy on people, who are not worth my time. Black holes of the universe sucked the guts out of my 20s. Getting older has taught me to swim away in the presence of Dementors.
Amen, sister!!! No more black-hole, uber needy or manipulative people, ever.
And I regret not buying that cool Vanessa Bruno canvas bag the last time I was in Paris.
I regret never having been to Paris. When in doubt, buy the bag.
Some how, some way, I hope there is a way for you to go.
And yes, I will buy the bag!
Depends on the time of day. At about 9pm, I regret pretty much everything. The next morning, I’m, like, “All the stuff I’ve done has added up to where I am now. I like where I am now. Therefore, I wouldn’t change anything.”
Really, my gumption is like a battery discharging. Full in the morning, empty at night.
Perhaps, that is the reason I stay so busy: to distract myself from the mental Greek chorus, chanting incessantly about all that was lost, went wrong or is my fault.
regret is inevitable as you age, and i’m thankful for the opportunity to regret. not everybody has it.
i don’t seem to regret the decisions i’ve made, not really. most of what i regret is made up of things i didn’t say/do, the things i avoided/put off. those are the ones that keep me awake. i should’ve stood up earlier to my MIL–her lack of boundaries wreaked havoc on my marriage and set a precedence that lingers.
i regret I didn’t buy that aubergine wool pant suit from Montreal. GOD, i regret that particular lack of $$.
I don’t regret the time I spent learning a foreign language since I was finally able to tell the in laws after 20+ miserable years of meddling and nastiness to fuck off and die without it being lost in translation.
I don’t regret channeling all that manic energy into landing a job that supports my family after years of raising babies as a single mother, alone while Mr. Executive Husband chased his dreams, wearing panties with broken elastic because I just wasn’t worth the expense of new ones. Holding him back.
I don’t regret independence. I’m kind of proud of that.
I do, however, regret the tears in my weak moments. But, they’re hard to crush. So much wasted time almost feels like someone died. Me.
I regret my handling of almost every relationship I’ve ever had.
I have never heard someone express that thought which I agree with but have kept to myself for the most part. I agree. I have memories of intense regret, usually involving love, where I was walking away and the feeling of regret took over and was stronger than the love that brought it on. I called it enlightening at the time, though that word has been trashed and is almost unusable, which is not regrettable, but the regret was juicy and made my mind keen and somehow more present. Thanks, Betsy. I knew there was a reason I’ve been stalking you.
Today, tomorrow, someday I know I will regret that I have not been brave enough to quit my bumblefuck job right now. All the time I spend doing what I have come to dislike is like binging on a bowl of I-don’t-give-a-shit topped with WTF.
I rarely regret that which I cannot change but what I control now…that keeps me awake at 3am with the rest of you guys.
ditto