Rhythms of Regret

Have you ever been surprised by a really great accent? Sometimes it doesn't even matter what they're saying, enthralled by the dance of their dialect, you're fascinated.

Other times... you really are trying... but you have to ask them to repeat... and then repeat again. Awkward faced, you kinda smile and pretend like you understand, but the truth is... you have no flipping idea what it is that they just said. But, you loved it.

Connection is such a powerful and dangerous thing. At it's best, it helps us transcend. Become more than we are. At it's worse, it is capable of wounding us so deeply that it's poisonous talons tear at a soul, never to be healed again.

Sometimes the accent that catches our ears leaves us charmed. Sorrowfully, other times, it is the haunting voice of the past that reminds us too well of all the things that we do not want to ever become. If your situation now is way different than the one in which you grew up, have you ever gone home again? Even accidentally? Some parts are beautiful, and beyond expression. But, somethings are maybe best left in the past.

Perhaps you're not proud of your past. The things you used to do. The person you used to be. The way you used to think. You step back into what was once familiar, and find it is you that has become the stranger. Suddenly, the smallest things become beacons of regret. The tone of a voice reveals to you their deep-set and brewing prejudice. A posture or position reflects their unconscious hatred and fear. And you are reminded, overwhelmingly, why you chose to leave. Their life continues as it has. But, yours has forever changed.

Why is it that the enjoyment of this moment is only theirs? Why is it that things commonplace and forgettable to them, grieve your soul?

I don't want to be bitter.

I don't want to recoil in horror at what was intended trivially. I want to heal.

I want to find beauty in the ashes of my regret. I want to be able to love them. To find hope and joy where now only loss and sorrow dwell.

It is I that have changed. But I cannot go back. For I have changed.

What do i do now?

...Christopher Levi