Frankly, if one was to ask my old self, he would have answered that he had some regrets.
Since a long time ago, no more.
As hurtful as it was, I taught myself how to accept defeat and just carry on. To kick my ass forward and never look back. To be bitter and dwell on the past would have been my demise, to carry on was my determination, and the past serves me for lessons to share in all humility.
Fuck regrets. I have no time for that.
To make me regret something, I'd say dream on. To teach me something I don't know, I'd say you're welcome.
Maybe it's just my colossal ego talking, but that is how I survived to be where I am today. To carry on without fear of regrets is to be either a fool or a warrior, and I fully accept both of the titles.
These are some powerful words, Sacro. I, too, can thankfully say I don’t have any regrets in life, and it’s not like I haven’t made any disastrous mistakes along the way to get to where I am today, as a person and who I’ve become, and where I’m going, but I agree, a large part of that is being able to let go of the pain, grief, anger, etc. The past helps build upon who you are, and all experiences in life should be cherished in that regard, that it’s ultimately part of your makeup, and the sort of beauty, failures and triumphs, can mean.
At least for me, holding regrets means to hold parts of yourself in discontent, of not accepting parts of yourself. My interpretation of “regret†will certainly it meet the definitions of others, but within this understanding, and working to absolve any and all inner conflict, myself being a constant work in progress where the process itself is reason for appreciation rather than the outcome, that I find myself comfortably answering this oh so common question, “do you have any regrets in life?â€, that I say, “I don’tâ€. And I carry on.