In my heart are the things I never did
For once I let myself wish for something I knew I could never have, and now I can’t let go. I am 27 years old and learning what regret is.
In my last newsletter I wrote a lot about the five years since I moved to the UK. Missing out on the things I missed out on while living here was a choice I made, I just didn’t feel very conscious of choosing it. Normally, that doesn’t bother me so much. I don’t feel like I missed out, I’m not someone who feels sentimental about things I can’t have.
If there had been no way to move to the UK I wouldn’t have mourned not being able to. Equally, as soon as I knew I could, I knew I would. That’s the way that I am. In the past, if I was in a relationship that wasn’t what I wanted it to be, I could be sad about it ending but I would never have wished for it to be another way, and I never would have gone back to them.
But, this last month, a thought snuck into my head that’s never snuck into my head before. I was reading my book, recommended to me by my nonna, and talking about her to Angus and it just slipped out:
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