I regret that back in grade two that I didn’t go to the counselor’s office after lunchtime when my mom had punched in the eye after I sighed from the exhaustion of chewing my salad. Despite this happening several weeks after my teacher brought in the junior high counselor to my second grade class to inform us that if our parents or anyone was abusing us to report it to them. It was apparent the teacher saw signs of abuse in me, but was still too scared that the school staff would not believe me or do nothing but tell my parents where I could picture clearly in my little second grader’s mind my parents beating, then killing me in retaliation for telling on them.
34 years later, even after burying both parents, and winning half a million dollars in the lottery. I still wish I had taken that chance, maybe I would have been removed and placed into a healthier environment and lead a happier life with coping skills, one that’s been worth living (I’m still waiting for it to get better)
I regret to the point of being obsessed with time travel in wishing it was real.