#Life regrets

[mavidin]

What was God? What was salvation if, that is, the world needed saving? Nothing. If everyone there just lived their lives and let others do the same, God would be in every moment, in every grain of mustard, in the fragment of cloud that is there one moment and gone the next. God was there, and yet people believed they still had to go on looking, because it seemed too simple to accept that life was an act of faith.

[maeonline]

didnt make enough being single jokes when i had the chance

[crymsinfox]

The ceiling is a constellation of regrets

As portentous abyss swallows me whole

My languid soul softly remarks that

Waking life is just slightly

Unsettling

[golge200505]

Put a part of you behind, to start living your life

I keep living in my old memories, ‘cause I’m afraid of new ones not being what I want.

I keep telling myself excuses about why I don’t do anything about my life, ‘cause I never feel ready for a fight.

I keep pushing all my dilemmas aside, ‘cause I don’t feel strong enough to decide.

I never felt like I was living, I’m just surviving.

My life motto is “just one more day”.

As if tomorrow I’ll wake up to a completely different reality.

Well, no one can deny the possibility of it since we don’t have a time machine yet.

What does that random man in the movies doing then, if not going back to his childhood days?

Well, back to the point.

I want to keep moving forward, but don’t want to leave the now in the past.

I want to start seeing the world from the angle I choose, but don’t want my thoughts to outcast.

I want to live without trying to ‘be mature for my age’, but don’t want people to put an ‘immature label’ on my back.

When everything is good I look for a problem; ‘cause even though the feeling is uncomfortable, it’s familiar.

‘Cause my life started in chaos, so I don’t know how to live in peace now.

My mind can only tolerate happiness when it’s seasonal.

When it goes for too long, I feel like something big is about to come and ruin my life.

People tell me that they don’t get me.

Well, turns out I’m not as alone in my thoughts as I thought I was.

Does a human not being understood by anyone means they’re not worthy of anyone’s understanding?

It sure does feel like.

I don’t know how to actually start living my life.

‘Cause that means putting a part of me behind.

The confused me.

The undecided me.

The untrustful me.

The ‘unaware of how the human relationships work’ me.

The ‘unable to put the fears behind and live the moment’ me.

The ‘can’t understand that life is not something you should live by trying to reach the end’ me.

The ‘afraid of making new memories, ‘cause it feels like betraying the old ones’ me.

Yeah, that’s why everything feels this hard.

‘Cause unless I put some parts of me behind, I’ll never truly start living my life.

[s3d4t3m3]

The grave I dug

I dug my own grave deep into the earth

I filled it with sorrows and lies

With my money and time

The more I threw in the deeper it seemed

My life weighed down on the earth cracking beneath

I stared to scare to throw in the last piece

But I tripped lost my grip and fell underneath

I screamed and cried but no one could hear

My nails bleed, skin peeling, eyes with burning tears

With walls so high I had no sight of the sky

But it started to snow so with a gleem in my eye

I thought it would fill up the holes of my life

My body cold I lay and wait only to be buried by this new weight

How will I ever escape

(A poem or somthing of the like I wrote about wasting my life lol can i get my emo badge and my c0ke bag now)

[thewitcheswitch89]

Fearless no more

you can also read on:

Min Heyoka (@TheWitcheswitch89) - Wattpad

Chapter 7

The Weight of Regrets

After Count Terzo rescued you from the icy lake, he carried your unconscious form back to the castle. The old maid, with a look of concern and a touch of motherly care, immediately took charge of the situation. She led the way to your warm, comfortable chambers and with gentle hands began to undress you and remove your wet, cold clothes.

Meanwhile, Count Terzo watched from the doorway, his mismatched eyes fixed on you with a mixture of relief and unease. The sight of you unconscious and shivering had stirred something in him, a sense of protectiveness he thought he had long forgotten. He stood silently, his tall, imposing figure casting a shadow across the room as the maid attended to you.

As the maid continued to undress you and tend to your shivering form, she couldn't help but notice Count Terzo lurking in the doorway. She gave him a stern, disapproving look, her expression making it clear that she wasn't pleased with his presence in the room.

"She needs rest and warmth, my lord," the maid said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. "You can talk to her when she's stronger."

Count Terzo's jaw tightened as he met the maid's gaze, the weight of her disapproval hitting him like a cold slap in the face. He knew she was right, of course, but the possessive, protective instinct boiling within him made it difficult to just walk away.

But he also knew better than to argue with the old maid. With a nod, he reluctantly stepped back from the threshold, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he retreated from the room.

As Terzo left, the maid continued to tend to you, wrapping you in warm blankets and tucking you into bed. She adjusted the pillows and blankets, making sure you were comfortable and safe before sitting down at the edge of the bed, her eyes watching your unconscious form with a mixture of concern and protectiveness.

Count Terzo made his way through the cold stone halls of the castle, his mind swirling like a storm. The image of you, shivering and unconscious, haunted his mind, stirring a mixture of emotions he hadn't felt in centuries. He found himself in the library, a room filled with tomes and scrolls of ancient knowledge, and with a heavy sigh he sank into a chair.

As Count Terzo settled into the library chair, one of the ghouls glided silently toward him, its footsteps eerily quiet on the stone floor. The ghoul's mismatched eyes, one gold and one white, regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and submission.

Count Terzo looked up at the ghoul, his gaze steady and intense. "Yes?" he said, his voice a deep, velvety murmur.

The ghoul tilted its head slightly, as if waiting for permission to speak. Count Terzo gestured for it to do so, a subtle nod of his head signaling that it had his attention.

"Master," the ghoul said, its voice low and raspy. "You seem troubled."

Count Terzo's eyes narrowed as he looked at the ghoul, his features set in a stoic expression. "Is it that obvious?" he said, a hint of wry humor in his voice.

The ghoul nodded silently, its gaze unwavering. It had served Count Terzo for centuries and had become adept at reading his moods, even the most subtle changes in his demeanor.

"I'm fine," Count Terzo said, his tone dismissive. He sat up straighter in his chair, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he tried to shake off the tension that weighed on him.

Count Terzo met the ghoul's gaze, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. "I said I was fine," he repeated, his tone firmer this time. "No need to worry."

The ghoul did not press the issue further, but remained standing, its presence a silent sign of concern. Count Terzo let out a sigh and leaned his elbow against the arm of the chair, his chin resting on his fist.

He found himself staring into the distance, his thoughts still swirling around you and the events of the day. The image of you unconscious and shivering continued to haunt his mind, stirring up a maelstrom of conflicting emotions.

Count Terzo closed his eyes, his voice soft and tinged with nostalgia.

"1617... It was summer. The corn was golden and the heavens so blue. We laid in the field in the rustling grass, her hand on my skin, soft and warm..."

The words came out as if he was transported back in time, reliving a memory that was etched in his mind like a permanent stain.

Count Terzo continued, his voice tinged with regret.

"She had no idea that I was already on the verge of becoming a vampire... I still believed I would win the battle..."

His eyes darkened as he remembered the past, the memories surfacing as sharp as a blade.

Count Terzo paused, his gaze distant as he relived the memory.

"But it was the first time, and she died in my arms..."

His voice took on an edge of sadness, the weight of the past pressing down on him like a heavy stone.

The ghoul remained silent, its unfocused eyes fixed on Count Terzo. It could hear the pain and regret in his voice as he spoke of the past. It felt a strange sense of empathy for its master, knowing that he had lived through centuries of loneliness and loss.

Count Terzo's voice grew even more solemn as he recalled the memory.

"The priest's daughter...one night she let me in...it was after the main service....After I drank her blood and killed her...I wrote a poem with her blood on her white skin..."

The words hung heavy in the air, filled with a mixture of remorse and grief.

Count Terzo's voice trembled as he recalled the events of the past.

"And the emperor's page from Napoleon's entourage...

He stood in front of the castle in 1813.

That his grief did not break my heart,

I cannot forgive myself."

The anguish in his voice was palpable, his guilt over the death of the page still weighing heavily on him after centuries.

Count Terzo's voice grew even softer, the words almost a whisper.

"As always, when I reached for life, nothing remained in my hand..."

The pain and regret in his voice was palpable, his past failures and losses echoing loudly in the silent room.

The ghoul continued to listen, its mismatched eyes never leaving its master. It could see the weight of the past on Count Terzo's shoulders, and it longed to offer some comfort, if only in silence.

Count Terzo's expression hardened as he recalled recent events.

"But... this time... this time it's different... when I saw her attacked by the wolves, when I saw her fall into the ice..."

His gaze darkened, a mixture of anger and protectiveness flaring within him as he thought of your encounter with the wolves and your accident in the lake.

Count Terzo's voice took on a softer, almost introspective tone.

"Even if I wanted to hunt them... I can't bring myself to do it... there's something... something I thought was dead..."

He paused, his eyes narrowing in thought as he struggled to make sense of the emotions stirring within him, emotions he thought he had long since buried with the passage of time.

The ghoul watched him calmly, its mismatched eyes studying his every move and expression. It could sense the inner turmoil brewing within Count Terzo, the conflict between a vampire's primal instincts and the unfamiliar, emerging emotions.

Count Terzo's eyes darted to the window, his mind swirling with a tangle of thoughts and emotions. He felt powerless against the sudden storm of emotions that seemed to have awakened within him, and to his irritation, it all seemed to be because of... you.

[tilbageidanmark]

THE WORLD YOU WERE BORN IN NO LONGER EXISTS

[ghostdoodlen]

Does anyone else just mourn a friendship that could've been?

I keep thinking back on when I was in choir and was at a performance where other schools came together, practiced, and preformed the same day they met.

I don't remember most of it, but I remember meeting this girl who I got along with so well. I didn't have a phone at the time and she gave me her contact info, recited it the whole time just to forget it when I got home.

Still think about her blonde hair and glasses and think we could have been great friends. I hope she never thought I didn't reach out on purpose

This has been on my mind for literally years

[crushingweightofmortality]

I know my mother well

maybe too well. When does that get decided? When I’m across a crowded room and can find her because I know how she breathes? Or when I know the sounds of her ascending stairs so well that I don’t need to consciously recognise it for me to react? When is it too much? I don’t know my father well. I don’t know his breathing, or his steps. These days I barely know his voice or face. But I know my mother. I know she’s never there when I need help, and always there when I don’t. I know she doesn’t mean to hurt me, and I know I can’t trust what she says. I wish I knew her less

[lons-world]

It's easy to look back and question decisions you have made in the past, but it's unfair to punish yourself for them. You can't blame yourself for not knowing back then what you know now, and the truth is you made each decision for a reason based on how you were feeling at the time. As we grow up, we learn and we evolve. Maybe the person you are now would have done things differently back then, or maybe you are the person you are now because of the decisions made back then. Trust your journey, it's all going to make sense soon.

[lgbtq-archives]

Dwelling on regrets or embracing challenges?

[myboredgeneration]

I used to be one of those guys. Now, I think it's too late for me to be a father of a newborn, I've grown old. I think someone with a grown kid can be better if I ever happen to get married. See, how life takes revenge!

men will call single mothers used up, unloveable, broken women then go jerk off to milf porn.

[nonsense-garden-fairy]

For me, becoming an adult is all about collecting regrets.

[mickeys-onehalf]

Do yall have that one song that you try to avoid but if it were to ever come on you get absolutely zoned out and you have at least a 3-4 minutes recap of your life's choices and events and it jst kinda leaves you like

[dojersdiary]

i think i've seen this story before, and i didn't like the ending :/

[golge200505]

Not The Best Dress, But I Suffer Less

I never was the one to look for the best dress.

I just wear clothes that makes me suffer less.

I don’t look well put, but you wouldn’t also spare me from the second-look.

I don’t like the way my life goes, but am too scared a change might ruin everything I’ve worked for.

The biggest lie I was told as a kid was if I tolerated things they would die down eventually.

I’ve been tolerating for nineteen years now, still no difference.

I keep living in the same old sad world, while those liar mouths continue their fairytale story.

Would you like to hear an advice from an experienced denier?

Make yourself believe that your life is a dream compared to other people.

And wait for the fire to burn your skin harsher than ever.

‘Cause now you also got the most stubborn person on earth in your hands to convince, that that doesn’t make their hurt less valid.

And the more they don’t accept the pain, the more the fire will get bigger.

When I look at my face, the only thing I see is a person desperately trying to play safe in order to protect a nonexistent peace.

When I look at your face, the only thing I remember is all the times you’ve kept me silent to protect a nonexistent peace.

No, I don’t put the whole blame on you.

But I put some, that’s for sure.

And I feel trapped in a hellhole where I keep repeating the same shit over and over again.

But the wounds on my body weren’t made in one day, so how can I heal them with only a few words on page?

I keep waiting for the day that I feel completely okay.

But I know that won’t happen unless I learn how to move on to the next page.

And you know.

I never was the one to look for the best dress.

I just wear clothes that make me suffer less.