The pixies at the Daily Post are trying to stump folks on a Tuesday morning:
Explain your biggest regret — as though to a small child.
I couldn’t actually do that because my biggest regret is not rated G. I often wonder if it is even rated PG. I wouldn’t know how to explain it to a child, as it involves the stuff of horror movies, the likes of which were rated X back in the days of going to the drive-in wearing pajamas.
I’ve told the story in other places, the story of my sometimes-not-so-distant past life, the one where I was a bright-eyed innocent. I’ve told the story in writing because it is painful.
But there is no point rehashing all that dusty history, since I cannot change it, or its results.
I would not be the person I am without it.
And sometimes I think changing that would be the biggest tragedy of all.