I had never known regret till I failed. I had never known regret until I was failed.

For a very long time I knew I couldn’t fail, at anything – school, sports, name it. I put in the effort and I was duly rewarded. I believed in a free and fair system, that if I did right, and played my part, I would always come out on top and smiling.

In my third year of Architecture school, seemingly high in spirit and in belief, I decided to take on the world, or what I believed was my world. I was the student representative at the faculty, and I believed I was among the best in my class till the end of the semester when my lecturer told me I had failed. FAILED?

What did this mean? What did she mean? I had failed? How? Failing at this level meant I had to wait a whole year before I could continue, and with it came a downward spiral. Anger, frustration, laziness and uncertainty were my daily bread for a whole semester, waiting, waiting for that bitch who failed me. But with time came acceptance, growth, and a subtle fire.

Until today…

Today I looked at regret in the eyes again. And with it a vile bile surged up my tummy while I was trying to have lunch. Today, I looked at what wasted effort felt like. Today, I regretted having believed in something, in someone. Today I regretted in having believed for once that my values could be changed.

It’s taken, and it took time to get to a place where I never regret anything. It’s taken time to come to a place where failure and I are mortal enemies, where success rolls off the sleeves, but today, today, I saw failure. I saw selfishness. I saw immaturity. I saw what I believed I could change, and failed. I’ve hated myself for the decisions leading up to this and I just hope I never make them again.

Today, I had lunch with my ex.


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