I KNOW.
The particular act in question has now, for reasons I won't go into, been rendered more than little bit redundant. Windows have sailed, ships have been bolted, horses are now closed. Or something like that.
I keep waiting for the regret to kick in but - somewhat surprisingly - it hasn't happened. There are plenty of other emotions swilling around in my head and my heart; hurt, disappointment, anxiety, wounded pride.....all the really fun ones. Then there's the occasional bout of fear that things will always feel like this; that I'm doomed to be miserable forever (they won't, of course, I know they won't, but right now it's a little hard to remember that) and a general sense of confusion, interspersed with the occasional flash of anger - often irrational,sometimes not - directed at everything and nothing in particular all at once.
Mainly though, I'm just sad. It's a constant, low-level sadness that just sort of hovers around like a mosquito, buzzing just loudly enough that I know it's there. Sometimes it settles over me and makes it impossible to think about anything else, other times it lifts for a while and I find myself surprised to be joking with strangers, smiling at shopkeepers, getting on with my day as if life were perfectly normal. And then the buzzing starts again, and we're back to square one.
And yet, no regret.
I think perhaps it's because it was never about not being brave enough. There are risks and there are calculated risks and sometimes when you do the calculations, you get an answer you really, REALLY didn't want. You can check, and check again and triple-check but the answer is still the same, and at some point you have to admit that it's right. And if you're really honest with yourself, deep deep down, you knew that all along.
And so, if you're smart, you don't act. For your own sanity, your own safety, your own peace of mind. Because there's a very fine line between being brave and being stupid; actions which are risky and ones which are downright foolhardy. And sometimes, giving yourself permission not to act is the bravest thing you can do of all.
Mainly though, I'm just sad. It's a constant, low-level sadness that just sort of hovers around like a mosquito, buzzing just loudly enough that I know it's there. Sometimes it settles over me and makes it impossible to think about anything else, other times it lifts for a while and I find myself surprised to be joking with strangers, smiling at shopkeepers, getting on with my day as if life were perfectly normal. And then the buzzing starts again, and we're back to square one.
And yet, no regret.
I think perhaps it's because it was never about not being brave enough. There are risks and there are calculated risks and sometimes when you do the calculations, you get an answer you really, REALLY didn't want. You can check, and check again and triple-check but the answer is still the same, and at some point you have to admit that it's right. And if you're really honest with yourself, deep deep down, you knew that all along.
And so, if you're smart, you don't act. For your own sanity, your own safety, your own peace of mind. Because there's a very fine line between being brave and being stupid; actions which are risky and ones which are downright foolhardy. And sometimes, giving yourself permission not to act is the bravest thing you can do of all.
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