iRegret.net

I regret my part in hurting my lover’s wife.  I didn’t mean to fall in love with him and I don’t want to be thought of as the “other woman” or a “homewrecker.”  I’m really not that kind of person.  I don’t know how to support the man I love without also being a person that I don’t really respect.

I’m so sorry, Lynda.

Submitted by: Jane

Hurting myself with self-destructive behaviors when there never was, and never will be, any good reason!

Submitted by: Anonymous

I regret not saying something to the man who was sitting next to me at brunch at Cafe Orlin. He was talking about someone he loved dearly who had passed away and he said “people who pass away never truly die…they go on living in our hearts.” I wanted so badly to say something to him since my mother had just passed away. It was a bizarre coincidence, but it didn’t seem right to interrupt their conversation even though their table was so close to mine. The moment passed and I didn’t say anything. How will he ever know that his words stay with me every day?

Thank you man with tattoos. You and your partner were so adorable! I hope I see you again.

Submitted by: Kathy

I am sorry that I told you in the first grade, when you asked me if you could be my friend, that “I already have enough friends.” I think about my insensitivity that day, and the hurt in your eyes, often. If you’re out there Amy Saucier, I’m very sorry.

Submitted by: Celina

I regret not getting my act together sooner so that I would be married, with kids…with more to look forward to than temporary things…fleeting events… I regret sleepwalking through life….

Submitted by: sun

To my former student — I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that the class wasn’t for credit, just for extra-credit, lying by omission. I was afraid you and the other students would want to drop it and I was so excited about teaching it. Also, you were a fantastic student, the best and brightest in that class even though your English was the worst, and you “got it” unlike the others. So I’m sorry, God, I am so sorry, that I didn’t bother finishing or grading or commenting on or returning your final paper. I feel sorry I did that to the other students as well, but I feel the worst about you because you rocked. I hope at least you know that I felt that way about it and that I communicated it somehow in class.

God, I was such a lazy bitch of a teacher. I’m really sorry.

Submitted by: Megan

I am sorry that I accused you of messing with my head and trying to drive me crazy. I now believe that you were telling the truth when you denied this. I was in the throes of a paranoid mania, and for whatever reason you became the focus of all my fears. It actually had nothing to do with you and you didn’t deserve the grief.

Submitted by: Anonymous

i wish i had the words for you. i wish i knew how to fix this. i am sorry that i don’t know how to love you. to be honest, it scares me that i could love someone so much. i’m sorry i am clueless. i’m sorry i am hurting you. and i am even more sorry that you have come to expect the hurt.

you are so beautiful. and sometimes i think i am the only one who sees it.

Submitted by: Pacha

the time on the metro, on the way to louvre… this is our stop, you said. it’s not, i said. you insisted, stepped off, trusting me to follow. i hesitated. the doors closed irrevocably between us, and i was whisked away from you. i can still see the look on your face, feel the look on my own.

it’s not just that you were right, and i had to trudge back, alone, to find you at last in the dusty courtyard.

i regret not jumping off with you — right or wrong — i wish i had followed you.

Submitted by: you know

i regret being so cruel to you when you told me you really liked me. i had a crush on your roommate and wasn’t really comfortable with dating anyone at the time. you no doubt would have been good for me if i’d only opened up.

Submitted by: Mar

i miss her terribly. at the beginning she liked me more than i liked her so i went with it. i thought she was cute and smart, and the sex was great, but i didn’t think it’d last. there were things that didn’t match. so many that i just couldn’t see it working. but somehow it went on. for years. we fell in with one another, met each other’s family, had nicknames, all that stuff. and then we broke up. i instigated it. nagging doubt was plaguing me. and we were arguing, a lot. then she decided we should have no contact. none whatsover. just like that. how can anyone be so unsentimental? i miss her. so very much. that was over 2 years ago. there’s been no contact — nothing. i’ve had a bunch of lousy affairs in the meantime. none of them worked. i think about her every day. i don’t necessarily want us to be together. i just miss being friends. i know i’m selfish and people have a right to choose the way they live. but it’s awful, and it’s wrecked me to some extent. for now. i’m no good to anyone.Submitted by: Anonymous

I wish I had never gotten married. It was expected and I wasn’t strong enough to disappoint expectation. I thought being alone was worse than being with someone you didn’t love. I was wrong.

Submitted by: Adele

I hate my boss so much that it keeps me up at night. Outside of the office I’m sure he’s a nice or alright guy, but in it, his authority or his responsibility or whatever the fuck turns him into a full-blown jackass who second-guesses and micromanages and makes you feel like a fucking fool and makes work a constant source of irritation. It’s too bad that one guy can affect the lives of so many. Apart from him in the main office, thinking up ways to belittle us, it’s good work. Could I talk to him? No way. His ego wouldn’t take it, and I need that paycheck more than most.

Submitted by: Fred S.

To the Little Boy in the Strawberry Fields Whose Name I Never Knew:

I hate picking berries.  Strawberries, raspberries, marionberries—I hate picking them all.  Pluck.  Pluck.  Pluck.  In the rain.  In the heat.  In the slugs, the mud, and the rotting berries.  Back-breaking work even for the eleven-year-old kid that I was those four decades ago.  Pluck.  Pluck.  Pluck.  Five cents a pound.  A dollar for a full crate was a good day for me, though rumor had it that one fifteen-year-old girl sometimes made ten dollars a day.  Just not my talent, I guess.  Sure, I learned how to whistle in the rows.  Sure, I filled my belly with the luscious berries.  But know this: I hate picking berries even to this day and will pay with great alacrity for a nicely mounded crate filled by someone else–anyone else, perhaps that fifteen-year-old girl now middle aged.

You had just finished a full crate to my skimpy quarter crate, but I hardly noticed; everyone finished before I did.  You left it in the next row over and headed to the old wooden outhouse.  Again, I didn’t notice; I was off in some daydream, most likely.  But the three older girls two rows over noticed.  They stood above me and said, “We’ll cut you in if you don’t tell.”  With a submissive nod I agreed.  They poured your berries into our crates, and we all went back to where we’d been, though at the time I didn’t know you can’t go back to innocence.  I took a peek at you when you returned.  Your lips quivered, but you didn’t say a thing.  You quietly began to work, refilling your empty crate.  I made an extra twenty-five cents that day.

Oh, little boy, forgive my laziness, forgive my greed, but most of all I beg that you forgive my weakness.  I’m so sorry if you were angry, if you were hurt.  I’m so sorry if you were disillusioned.  I’d go back and change things if I could, but I cannot.

As a child I confessed in a darkened stall to a hidden priest such sins as calling my brother names, lying to my mother, or taking an apple from the fruit bowl without permission.  And when there were no real sins to confess, I made up ones such as kidnapping my sister’s pet rock, coveting the neighbor’s gorgeous fourteen-year-old son, or taking God’s name in vain when I bit my tongue on the communion wafer.  But I never confessed to stealing your berries.

I confess to you now and to all who will listen that I am guilty and have been for decades of theft from a hard-working and earnest little boy.  The only way I can think to make amends is to try hard to be a good and giving woman.  Even so, it will take the rest of my life to repay the interest accrued on that twenty-five cents worth of berries I stole from you.

Submitted by: Susan McElheran

I regret dumping my loving boyfriend in such a mean way. I regret sleeping with his friend. I regret sleeping with my ex-boyfriend who treated me like shit. I regret not telling my brother how much I loved him before he died and I regret not visiting him when he was in the hospital. I regret talking bad about people when they didn’t deserve it. I regret not wearing makeup earlier, because had I worn makeup I wouldn’t have felt so ugly, therefore avoiding my self-consciousness issues. Most of all, I regret regretting things…

Submitted by: CB

I regret using all the drugs and staying out all night so many times, the pain I caused my wife whom my dumb ass has just now realized was my soul mate. She supported me to no end. I regret that I didn’t leave my current girlfriend when she cheated on me with her ex-boyfriend, how often I have no idea. I continue to buy her Gucci and diamonds and pay for her expensive automobile. I regret being such a punk.

Submitted by: KME

I regret waiting so very long to “come out.”

Turns out ALL the people in my life who really matter, do not really care about my “Lifestyle.”

When I think of those several decades that I lived “stifled”………. 🙁

Hugs………..Sam

I hate Christmas. I wish I didn’t but there it is. I hate it. It’s nothing but manipulation and disappointment.

Submitted by: the Grinch

GossipTo complicate the situation more,is to add the following ingredient:She slept with someone else.I told all my friends about it,and a friend, told a friend, whicheventually got to her boyfriend.“I don’t like it,” he thinks.Does he know if it’s a logicallytrue statement, for he doesn’t havethe proof, like video, or pregnancy?But as the meteor strikes anothermeteor, so too does the boyfriendstrike the girl with confrontation:words, break bones, set tones.Gossip, like signing onto anotherperson’s email account, can endany situation, especially a relationship.Submitted by: Jared

I regret not believing in myself.  Feeling like I am trapped and that I’m doomed and can’t come out of the hole that I have dug myself into.  I regret feeling like I am unloved and that my life has been full of dysfunctional relationships and heartbreak.  I regret not realizing how lucky I am.

Submitted by: Anonymous

I regret not telling him how I feel and then being angry and upset when he tells me of other people in his life.  He is gone now. I will only be able to see him once in a while.  I regret being secretly mad when I see that he is making new friends.  I want him to be weak so that I can be there for him… so that he needs me.  I want to feel needed and appreciated.  I want to know that he is thinking about me as much as I think about him.  I regret keeping all of this to myself.  I regret the person that I have become.

Submitted by: trying to love

I regret the frequency with which I set goals for myself, fail to accomplish them, and then rationalize my failures as inevitable.

Submitted by: Michael

I regret not having better sex with my fiancé’s best friend when I had the chance.(I guess I also regret having the sex.)Submitted by: Janet