by Elliot Pope
I stand in the filing cabinet of memories,
and pick one to regret.
I do this every second of every day,
flip back through the
Chronicles of a Screwed Up Teen,
and wish I had done things differently.
why did i use that wording?
they probably thought i was mad.
i need to be kinder.
I pick at the threads of my brain
and unravel them one by one
until the memories become mixed and tangled.
why did i hug them?
i could’ve sworn they tensed up at first.
i need to remember to ask.
I rewind the movie,
pausing on every scene,
studying each detail to see what I missed in the moment.
why didn’t i go to that event?
it could’ve been the opportunity i had been looking for.
i have to take more risks.
Over and over and over,
until the embarrassment is too much
i should’ve talked to them.
i should’ve left it alone.
i should’ve submitted to that contest.
i should’ve tried harder at that audition.
i should’ve cared more.
i should’ve cared less.
i need to change.