No More Regrets!

1 - Please help me.

"Have you ever died before?"

It's a strange question, isn't it? We say it so casually, weave it into language like it's just a word. In movies, in books, in comics: "I'd die for this," "Dead on arrival," "Scared to death." They see death as  an ultimatum, something that happens  once. But death is more than that. It's more than just the end. For me, death isn't about the heart stopping, nor the body crumbling. No, death is something quieter—something that gnaws at you in pieces. Death is losing, but not in a game, not in some trivial competition. It's losing a will. The will to keep breathing, or the will to keep trying, or the will to keep being.

The thing about death is, death always leaves regrets—these echoes of things left undone, unspoken, unfelt.

We all die in some way. Every time you give up, every time you let something precious slip through your fingers, that's a little death. Whenever you stand in front of the canvas without being able to paint -- that's death.

But me? I'm different. I know because I can see it—their deaths. . Their souls flicker with it, even if they don't realize, but they all eventually get back up and live, their will is re-shapen and re-kindled, and that's what makes me different.

As long as I have lived, and as long as I can remember. I have been dead.

Regrets, I had so many. 

It was probably weird for a high-school student to say such a thing. Life regrets were not something high school students should have. Maybe some minor regrets... but I regretted almost everything I chose.  I was already dead you see, a ghoul moving side to side with the living. 

Walking around I stared down while kicking the ground beneath me. Walking down the same path always. Walking to school and back. Walking the same dirt road toward the supermarket. Turning right, then going through the tunnel. 

The tunnel smelled bad and was full of trash people threw in and it was dark, so dark the sun barely reached inside the entrance, and the only light you could see was the other side of this hole. People who went through here usually brought flashlights, I had my own, but I didn't like its design. 

Why do I have to go there? I wish I had chosen a school closer to my house.

I traveled through the grimy road to get to school. It rained today morning, and the grounded fog made it hard to miss the pot holes. I had to get small heart attacks every few metersall in the hopes of getting my grades from today -- the last day of school. Then I studied harder to make them higher the following year. 

I stopped at a traffic light. There were no cars coming, so there was no point in staying in the same spot. 

Maybe I should wait so I don't arrive too early... maybe being late would be better. I regretted arriving too early yesterday...

I looked left and right and took a step forward. There was no point in thinking about what I would do the day before.

Maybe I shouldn't wait. I regretted getting scolded by the teacher a week ago.

I kept walking, but there was no motivation, no passion to keep going. My mind wasn't focused on the now or next, but rather on the before, in other words what could have been. I arrived at school early. I went inside while looking down.

School was the same as always. 

The same bore, the same story. 

A series of rooms inside a large hallway. The corridors inside my school were always so full of people... so it was funny that I always felt like they were so empty. People usually only see who they can relate to. That's why it always looked the same to me, I would greet no one.  Talk to no one. Have lunch with no one.