Guys
What the Word Regret Was Made For
Maybe it was because of you, for you.
PHOTO MCA Music

Remember that moment when we first met?

There was nothing grand about it. We met at the corner of our school building, unaware that our lives were about to collide, explode. We found ourselves at the center of our own solar system, moving in a slow dance. I remember you saying how nice my name sounded, beautiful even. You told me how it felt like my name was going to break whenever it slid off your tongue. That's why you talked to me in short sentences, in silences.

So I waited for you to speak to me and tell me all the things I wanted to hear, because whether my name breaks or not, all I wanted was to hear was the sound of your voice. I could tolerate the sound of my own name breaking. That didn't really matter.

Remember that time when we talked about regrets?

You told me you didn't understand the thought of regret and how people could live with them. I said maybe you just haven't loved something with all of your heart yet that you're willing to pay the price of time and wait, set aside what you think are your selfish intentions so you get things right with them. You didn't get me. You didn't understand how one can spend their weeks, months, years waiting. Even for someone you love? I asked. Even for someone I love, you said firmly. I waited for you to change your mind, but you didn't. You never did. Even for someone you love.

Remember the first time I was so upset because of you?

Maybe your dreams aren't meant to be your dreams, you said. Maybe you just have to get over it, you said. You told me to get over my dreams already because I was such in foul mood. I thought I understood where you're coming from. So I just waited for you to come to your senses, to hold my hand tightly, and to let me know you'll be there in case I break down while running my race. 

But the waiting turned to days which turned to weeks, then months, then years. The silences, the whispers became deafening—more deafening than the sound of a hundred musical instruments being played at the same time. You know I love you, you always said. But most of the time, I'm sure you just loved the fact that I was there to listen, to glue together the fragments of your ego, to wait just in case you'd be willing to stand on the shaky ground where I was standing on, to stay no matter how unstable everything was, to be an afterthought to your name. You were wrong. For the first time, I knew you were wrong.

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I still remember that time when we talked about regrets. You said you didn't understand the word, how people could live with them. I said maybe you just haven't loved something with all of your heart yet that you're willing to pay the price of time and wait, set aside what you think are your selfish intentions so you get things right with them.

Remember that time I told you I was walking away?

I wish you could see the way I'm still trying to breathe a sigh of relief up to this day. I wish you can see how I'm still learning to get used to and to love the person I lost years ago. How I still wish so hard that I didn't have to loosen my grip on every dream I held dear and on the very person I lost when I slowly became too sure of you. How I'm still trying to get things right with myself. How today, I was finally sure what the word regret was made for. I wish you knew.

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About the author
Ayessa De La Peña
Candymag.com Assistant Section Editor
I am Candymag.com's resident fangirl and ~*feelings*~ girl. When I'm not busy researching about what to write next on the website, I sleep, read books, and re-watch episodes of Friends.
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