MY PERFOMANCE

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My Biggest Regret In My Life

It’s said that life is a series of moments, some small, some profound, all
fleeting. But every so often, there is a moment that lingers long after it has passed—
a moment that becomes etched in your memory, a regret that grows and evolves
over time. For me, that moment came when I let someone I loved slip through my
fingers, all because of my pride, my fear, and my inability to truly understand the
value of what I had until it was gone.
Her name was Sarah. We met when I was just beginning my adult life. I had recently
moved to the city, bright-eyed and ambitious, thinking I had everything figured out. I
was convinced I knew what I wanted, who I was going to become, and that the world
was my oyster. It was a time of change and excitement. But then I met Sarah, and
everything shifted.
She wasn’t the loudest person in the room, but there was something magnetic
about her. She had a quiet way of making people feel seen, even when she didn’t
speak. Her laughter was a melody, warm and contagious, and her eyes sparkled
with a depth that hinted at experiences, thoughts, and dreams I could only begin to
understand. We became close almost instantly, and before long, we were
inseparable. It felt like I had found someone who understood me in a way that no
one else could, someone who balanced out my flaws without even trying.
But as things grew more intense, I started to feel unsettled. I was used to being
independent, to carving my own path without relying on anyone else. The more time
I spent with Sarah, the more I realized how much of myself I was sharing. I became
afraid—not of losing her, but of losing myself in the process. It’s a strange thing, fear.
It doesn’t always make sense, but when you’re in the grip of it, it can distort
everything around you.
I started pulling away. At first, it was subtle—a missed call here, a forgotten text
there. I told myself it was nothing, just life getting in the way. But deep down, I knew I
was distancing myself on purpose. I didn’t want to need anyone. I didn’t want to rely
on her so much that I would be left with nothing if she were ever to leave. My fear of
vulnerability, my fear of dependence, overshadowed my feelings for her.
Sarah noticed the change. Of course, she did. She wasn’t blind, and she wasn’t
stupid. At first, she asked if something was wrong. But when I gave her vague, half-
hearted answers, she grew quiet. She never demanded anything of me, but I could
see the hurt in her eyes. And yet, I ignored it. I thought it was just a phase, something
that would pass. But in the back of my mind, I knew I was losing her. And then came
the moment when it all fell apart. We were sitting in our favorite café, the one with
the mismatched chairs and old vinyl records playing softly in the background.
 It had been a few weeks since we’d really talked, and I could sense the distance
between us, growing wider by the day. I was still wrapped up in my fears, thinking
that I could just move on from her, that I didn’t need her the way I thought I did. But
when she looked at me that day, I saw it in her eyes. She was done trying.
“I think I need to leave,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. The words
hit me like a slap, but I didn’t react the way I should have. Instead of pleading,
instead of letting the floodgates of emotion open, I shrugged it off.
“If that’s what you want,” I replied, my voice cold and indifferent, though my heart
was anything but.
And just like that, she walked away. She didn’t look back. And neither did I, not in that
moment. I was too proud, too stubborn. I thought that if I didn’t show how much it
hurt, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much. But deep down, I knew the truth. I had lost her,
and there was no going back.
The weeks that followed were a blur of regret. I told myself that it was for the best,
that I needed to focus on my career, on myself. But every night, when the city lights
flickered through my window, I could feel the emptiness of it all. I didn’t miss Sarah
just because she was a part of my life; I missed her because she was the best part
of it.
I thought about her often—about the way she smiled when she was nervous, about
the way she would talk for hours about the books she loved, about the way her hand
fit so perfectly in mine. I thought about how we could have built a life together, how
we could have faced the challenges of the world side by side. But it was too late. I
had let her go. I had let my pride, my fear, and my inability to open up drive her
away. And now, she was gone.
I tried to move on. I threw myself into my work, filled my days with distractions, but
nothing could fill the void she had left behind. Every relationship I tried after that felt
shallow in comparison. There was always this space, this emptiness where Sarah
had been. I could never truly connect with anyone the way I had connected with her.
Years passed, and I thought I had grown. I learned to be more open, more
vulnerable. But the pain of losing Sarah never fully went away. Every time I thought
about her, I would wonder what could have been if I had just let go of my fears, if I
had allowed myself to love her the way she deserved to be loved.
My biggest regret is not that I lost her—it’s that I didn’t fully understand what I had
until it was too late. I had this incredible person in my life, someone who could have
been my partner, my equal, my love, and I let fear make the decision for me. I let
pride and pride alone dictate the course of my life.
Even now, years later, I wonder where she is, what she’s doing, and whether she ever
thinks about me. But what haunts me the most is knowing that I will never get the
chance to apologize, to tell her how wrong I was, to show her the person I’ve
become.
In the end, regret is a silent companion, always lurking in the background,
whispering in your ear about the chances you didn’t take, the words you didn’t
speak. And though I’ve made peace with the fact that I can’t undo the past, I will
always carry the weight of that regret with me. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the
greatest regret isn’t in what we’ve done, but in what we failed to do.
1.”IF”

If I had stopped pushing her away,

If I had let myself be vulnerable,
Perhaps Sarah would still be in my life today.
If I hadn’t let fear dictate my choices,
If I had trusted that love wouldn’t make me weak,
Maybe we would have faced the future together,
Building memories instead of regrets.
If I hadn’t let pride hold me hostage,
If I had simply told her how much I cared,
She might have stayed,
And my heart wouldn’t ache for what could have been.

2.”IF”

If I could turn back time,

I would choose honesty over silence,
Love over pride,
And vulnerability over fear.
If I could undo the walls I built around myself,
If I could take back the coldness I showed her,
Maybe she would have felt safe to stay,
And our love wouldn’t have crumbled before it had a chance to grow.
If I could tell her now,
I would say, “I was afraid, but I loved you.”
But the words would never reach her,
Only the quiet whisper of regret in my soul.
1.”THEN”

Then, I let my pride take control,

Believing that distance would protect me.
Then, I watched her walk away,
Her eyes filled with sadness,
And I told myself it was for the best.
But in my heart, I knew it wasn’t.
Then, the silence between us grew louder,
Each day without her felt like a slow burn.
And I realized too late that what I had lost
Could never be regained.

2.”THEN”

Then, the days turned into weeks,

And I kept telling myself I was fine.
Then, I buried my regret beneath distractions,
Pretending that it didn’t matter.
But every night, in the stillness of my thoughts,
Her absence echoed through my mind.
Then, I understood that no amount of time
Could erase the pain of what I had let go.
And though I tried to move forward,
The weight of my mistake never left me.
“WHAT IF”

What if, instead of letting her walk away that day in the café, I had
allowed myself to be vulnerable? What if, in that moment when she
said she needed to leave, I had dropped the walls I had so carefully
built around my heart?
Instead of shrugging it off, I could have looked into her eyes—those
eyes that had once held so much warmth and understanding—and
told her the truth. I could have admitted that I was scared, scared of
losing myself in her, scared of opening up and trusting someone so
completely. I could have told her that I didn’t want to lose her, that I
loved her in a way I wasn’t ready to admit, but now, in the face of
losing her, I was finally ready to.
Perhaps, if I had done that, she would have seen the sincerity in my
eyes, the rawness in my voice, and the vulnerability I had long
hidden. Maybe, just maybe, she would have stayed—given me the
chance to prove that I could overcome my fears, that I could love
her without losing myself.
Instead of walking away, we could have worked through the silence
between us, the distance I had created. We could have rebuilt what
was broken, not by ignoring our flaws but by facing them together. I
could have shown her the person I had become, the person I was
willing to be for her.
Perhaps our love would have grown stronger, deeper. Perhaps we
would have created the life we once dreamed of, hand in hand, with
all its challenges and joys. Maybe we would have learned that love
isn’t about fear, but about accepting each other—flaws, vulnerability,
and all.
But in that moment, I chose pride. I chose fear. And I lost her.