I have regrets. Who doesn't? Big ones, small ones, long-term ones and 'shouldn't have had that third slice of pizza' ones. I tell myself, on occasion, that I ought not to have them - since the things I regret most about my past are also the things that, down a long line of always choosing the easy option, led me to him. I would not go back and kick my 16 year old butt - given the second chance I would have done all the stupid things, hurt all the people, given up all the chances again. And again and again, because there is no other way I would have been at that party on that night (in those kneehigh red boots) to meet him. I would fall through the gaps of a million lifetimes to be sure that I would be there.
Still, sometimes, when I have to ring him to cancel our lunch date so that I can study, when I have to spend another Saturday at work instead of with him, I cannot help but resent my past self her indulgences that have left this inheritance.
And yet again, I know that the guilt of those indulgences, the fear of where they will lead if I do not do something - anything - right now - are what drive me. Without those regrets, I would still be blowing it off to go for lunch. So, yes, I am disappointed with myself, but that provides the chip on my shoulder that I need - if I did not feel like a failure, I would not need to prove to myself that I won't always be one.
And now, now it is so much easier to see what I want most of all, for he stands right before me. With him pointing at tomorrow it is easier to keep running towards it.