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I realize at 28 I'm not as smart or together as I thought I was. This is a sobering realization.
I think.
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The Jackass Chronicles
Hospital Corners
Sometimes I think I�m too stoic. I take, �I made my bed, now I must sleep in it� to an almost absurd extreme. I guess I feel like if I made a choice at some point�knowingly or subconsciously or even by accident�that�s it. I made that choice and I have no right to go back and try to fix something or make amends or admit I made a mistake and beg for something or someone back. To me that�s a sign of weakness. Maybe I feel like I�m trying to prevent having regrets, but I�m now finding that this can lead to more regrets, ironically enough. Like maybe if I had cut myself some slack, we would be back together, or I would have that job still or I would forgive her and let her back into my life, but the answer is always the same�It�s Too Late Now. I mean what right do I have to go back to someone and mess up what happening in the present to relive and repair something that happened in the past because of a choice I made? A choice I 9 times out of 10 made unilaterally. I never even let the person know how close I came to coming back to them and begging for things to end up differently. It�s like they have no idea what I�m going through because I feel like I lost the right to burden them with that. Is that strange?I wonder where this bullheaded resolve came from. Granted, I can count on my hands the regrets I�m speaking of, the ones where I am almost sure I could maybe go back and �fix� but again, I feel like that�s just rude and pathetic to dredge up old skeletons again. I wonder if those people ever think of me and what happened. If they ever pick up the phone only to put it back down again. Or if they�ve written tons of letters they�ve never sent. Or if they have dreams where forgiveness is granted and they are embraced by their tormentor only to be awakened by the alarm clock. Sigh.
Only once have I done something about it. Simon. Fucking Simon. After too many hang-ups from him and missed connections, I sent him a masterpiece of a letter. All the way from Connecticut to San Francisco. It was the first and last time I ever really exposed myself to anyone like that. I apologized for being young and selfish and scared. I told him everything I thought about him and how lucky I was to have just met him and how I could scarcely believe it when we finally got together after two years of pining, etc., etc. The letter ended with me asking for him to think about whether he still had feelings for me and how I was willing to do anything to get another chance with him--move, leave my job�whatever it took. With trembling hands, I put it in the envelope and drove to the post office where I stood by the mailbox for a good 10 minutes. What a fucking clich�. Seriously, it was something out of �My So-Called Life�. As soon as I dropped it in, I entered my own personal hell for 8 weeks. All I know is if I got the same letter from him, I would have been in SF on his lawn with a transistor radio held over my head in a matter of days. It was that good. Well, I did hear from him, finally. The message he delivered was that he was too scared to give up what he had now to take another chance with me.