It’s like a withdrawal from a drug.

Regret for what was done, what wasn’t. Regret for what was said, what wasn’t.

It’s the lack of euphoria that once was. That feeling in the pit of your stomach, that lump in your throat. It’s the reason you can’t sleep. It’s the reason you can’t eat

Regret.

It’s remembering the euphoria. It’s so overwhelming that you don’t know if you regret starting or stopping. It runs together. The memories, the sadness, the anger.

Regret.

It makes your brain hurt. It makes you replay every decision you’ve ever made. Every thought. Every action. It makes you want to cry. It makes you fight back the tears until you’re completely alone in the dark; until you’re in the shower, where the tears and the water become one.

Regret.

It’s me, not you. Or is it you, not me? Do you harbor regret? Do you wonder if you could’ve been better? Do you wish I were better? Did we try our best?

Regret.

The insignificant things, the least of things, seem so big now. So significant.

Regret.

Do we regret what was…. or what wasn’t?