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Humans are flawed.  We make mistakes.  We dwell in them and then we move on believing that we have learned from them.  But most often we have not learned from our mistakes.  Instead we must make the same mistake multiple times before we understand what we should have learned the first time.  However, life usually doesn’t give us multiple chances.  We have one life to live.  One.  I always get the feeling that I’m wasting my life away, worrying about trivial things.  And that’s where my regret stems.
My regret was the result of fear, the fear of getting hurt.  This fear is evident in many humans.  It’s a survival mechanism.  But my fear seems like its much stronger than others.  I have the ability to shield myself from anything I deem dangerous or fearsome.  I have the ability to believe like a child does that if I don’t see it, it’s not there.  And even if I stand still, the world is still moving.  This movement causes everything that I’m running from to catch up with me.  I’ve already spent nineteen years of my life running from anything that scares me.  But I can’t seem to make myself stop running.  I can’t stop running because then I’ll sit and wallow and think about all the things I regret.  If I keep running then I won’t ever feel those stabs of regret, right?
This is the true life of a writer.  I have feelings, thoughts, and I write them down.  I must or they’ll just cloud my mind and create and unwavering hazy mind.  This is me, totally flawed and imperfect, and lost in the world of reality.


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