Regrets

I look at the clock on my nightstand.
It shows 5 AM.
I am 80 years old.
I remember, that I wanted to write a book.
I wanted to become strong and muscular.
I wanted to learn to play guitar and parachute out of an airplane.
I wanted to help as many people as possible to live meaningful lives.
Now it’s too late – I’m dying.

I wonder where my life has gone.
I never wrote that book.
I never found out how strong I could have been.
I never learned to play guitar and never parachuted out of an airplane.
I stopped pursuing my vision.
Now it’s too late – I’m dying.

I look back and wonder what could have been.
I wonder how my book would have turned out. What would I have written about? Would it have been popular? Could I have read it to my children?
I wonder how strong my mind and body could have been. Would I have had the strength to step up in moments of crises? Could I have prevented my illness? Could I have lived longer?
I wonder what songs I would have played on my guitar. What would they have been about? Love and good times? Heartbreaks and struggle? A girl I loved?
I wonder how pursuing my vision would have turned out. Would I have left a mark? Would I have helped others to live meaningful lives? Would I have made the world a better place?
Now it’s too late – I’m dying.

I look back on my life with regrets.
I wasn’t brave enough to live life on my own terms.
I stopped pursuing what I truly wanted.
I spent my precious time on things that felt good in the moment.
Not on things that mattered.
I wonder if I wasted my life.
The life I lived wasn’t the life I wanted.
I wish I would have tried to live my life differently.
Now it’s too late – I’m dying.

All of a sudden, something feels off.
The clock on my nightstand starts spinning backwards.
My environment changes.
I’m not dying – I become younger.
I watch as I turn 70, 60, 40 and years fly past.
I look at the clock.
It shows 5 AM.
I’m 28 years old.

There is still time.