Find Her, Keep Her (CFTM Sequel)

Chapter 22 (Alex)

*Note: Click the Youtube link above to listen to the Audiobook Version of this chapter voiced by kaelking12 (Kristen M.) featuring music by Tegan and Sara and Ok Go.

Alex

Everybody says you're supposed to live life without regrets. That somehow, every single decision you make will pan out perfectly like you're living out some kind of real life RomCom.

Never mind spilling your secrets all over the Internet.

Never mind ruining one relationship while revisiting the other.

Because in sparkle-sunshine-happy-land, all of your problems will melt away like sugar in the rain.

If you're like my mother, who starts out her days cracked out on optimism, there's no such thing as missteps or mistakes.

Why?

Because your future is made of butterflies and rainbows, that's why. And nothing in this glitter-filled world could ever bring you down.

Except the truth.

And I just littered the truth all over cyber space.

Which partially makes me want to kill myself/scream at my parents for raising me thinking that I should live life without regrets.

Because at this very moment, I am made of regrets.

I am currently buried under my quilt silently hyperventilating while regret crushes my airways.

My parents are liars.

Why? Because real people living real lives regret just about everything, that's why.

Eating too much candy? Regret. Not working out as much as you should be? Regret. Posting extremely personal and revealing responses to your ex's novel on a public class forum? REGRET.

Now, normally in a situation like this, I wouldn't panic because of three beautiful buttons called Control, Alt, Delete. The undo button is a girl's best friend. Especially if you're a girl who's prone to minor panic attacks--like me.

Even my Gmail has an "unsend" option for people who are generally unsure of everything, which is why I love all things Google.

But what I don't love, is the fact that there's a team of sycophant programmers responsible for my UCLA English forum who do not believe in second chances.

There is no auto-correct your regrets button.

Once you've posted, you've posted, and everyone and their grandmother can see your words, comment on your thoughts, and read into the broken pieces of your past relationship like it's plastered all over the front page of the New York Times.

Okay.

Maybe that's extreme.

There's barely ten people in my class discussion--but one of those ten people is the harbinger of romantic doom and destruction.

I shut my eyes, lean back against my pillows, and try to block out the image of what Elias's face will look like when he reads my post. But instead of peacefully fading to black, my mind turns into a cinema projector.

I see him laughing, recoiling, cringing and suddenly I'm cringing. The muscles in my stomach ball themselves into tiny little fists and punch holes through my self-esteem.