This, I Regret

This, I Regret

          The sun's intense glare made me cover my face with my arms by instinct as it beamed at me, passing through my body and landing on the ground like I wasn't standing here, watching people. I would've felt pain as my eyes stared directly into the taunting eyes of the sun, but I would be thoroughly fortunate to feel the pain people felt. I had been in this state for too many years I had lost count of these years of emptiness, but what I yearned to remember was the feeling of joy, love, and caring for someone. Why had I forgotten that feeling? Or perhaps I could not remember that feeling because there was nothing to remember, because I had never experienced that when I was alive? How could I have lived without connecting with anyone?

I breathed a non-existent breath as I prepared to do my daily routine, watching how people live, imagining how it would've felt if I could live like them, if I could live again. It was a busy day in the town park, where people loved spending their day to break free from the stressful lives they lead every day, where I had decided to stay for eternity to watch and live through them vicariously.

"Tag!" a little boy screamed. "You're it!"

I looked over my shoulder to see children playing tag on the grassy field, wearing shoes to protect their feet from dirt. My toes curled but didn't feel anything. Oh, how these children would miss the feeling of the cool soil against their bare feet, the feeling of grass grazing its soft tips against their skin.

People kept themselves from getting hurt, from getting their hearts broken, from feeling pain, but they didn't even know how true pain felt, how hard it could torment their naive selves. Their pain was a fleeting one, deceiving them into fearing pain, into missing life, but they had no idea what true pain was. True pain was indescribable; no words could make you imagine how it felt to feel nothing but regret, pure regret. But I was no different when I was alive, I believed.

This I thoroughly regretted, and I would never have another chance to try again.

A guitar strum from behind made me turn around. There, sitting by the Narra tree, was a group of adolescents laughing as they sung together merrily. I wondered if I had ever worn a smile such as theirs—bright and joyous from ear to ear.

A sad smile crept to my face. I wanted to live again, to live a meaningful life and to die satisfied. There were smiles on their faces, and they laughed as they played jokes on one another. This was something I had never done and would never be able to do, because I had coveted an astounding reputation, to be known as a respected, sophisticated man who did not talk unless necessary. And that foolish dream forced me into a life of complete solitude.

This I thoroughly regretted, and I would never have another chance to try again.

On the bench near the adolescents sat a pair of young adults. And I nearly choked in surprise at the sight of a dark-haired woman wearing a skirt far too short for a lady as beautiful as her, not even long enough to cover her knees. She need not show off her long legs to attract men, yet the man whom she wanted to acknowledge her acted as if she wasn't there, as if her curly hair, rich brown eyes, and full lips had not attracted him. Admittedly, the lady reminded me of my lady whom I had pretended to ignore—Anastasia—though Anastasia always wore a lovely pink hat and carried a lavender purse, which the lady on the bench lacked.

I felt an urge to tell the man not to take the lady for granted, but, alas, I did not. I had tried that before, numerous times; I knew for a fact that it would only be in vain. As a young adult, I was no different. I had never listened to anyone's wisdom.

This I thoroughly regretted, and I would never have another chance to try again.

The field was abandoned when an ice cream vendor came, signaled by its light-hearted jingle. Tink! Tink! Tink! Little squeals escaped from the children's little mouths as they ran to their parents and begged for delicious ice cream, gripping on their parents' arms, pulling and pulling.

I would never have my own children. I would never stay up all night taking care of my little darlings, cooing at toddlers and making sure everything was perfect. My mind had been too occupied by my dreams of wealth and honor in my youth that I missed all my chances at living a meaningful life.

This I thoroughly regretted, and I would never have another chance to try again.

Doves flew across the red sky as sunset neared. They chirped at one another as they soared and swerved together, as if caring for one another. How foolish of me not to realize this when I was still living. I shouldn't have taken those chances for granted—the chance to communicate with others, the chance to feel for someone, the chance to live. I had kept to myself, and now I was forced to keep to myself until the end of time. Their chirping sounds continued, sounds that would've tickled my ears if I had been alive, if I had been able to feel the things of the world.

To feel... I looked at my hand, all blue and translucent. It began to get hazy. Everything did. I was fading away, blending in with the shadows of death. When I opened my eyes and looked around again, I was surrounded by white walls and hospital equipment.

"I'm back," I croaked, my throat too dry for me to speak properly.

This happened ever since I was struck by cancer, confined to bed, with no one to visit me but hazy memories and regret. Oftentimes, I was too forgetful to remember my real memories. All I could know was that I had lost things, that I was so empty and all that was left to fill the empty space in my soul was regret.

I was dying to be wealthy and respected, and now I am dying.

I could never have my childhood back, nor have any friends to laugh and cry with. I could never hold Anastasia's hand, look into her beautiful, brown eyes, and tell her how much I adored her. I could never have children.

All of these I thoroughly regretted, and I would never have another chance to try again.