The more things change, the more they stay the same. I am not sure who the first person was who said that. But at the moment, it’s the sentence that best explains my tragic flaw, my inability to change.
I don’t think I am alone in this, the more I get to know other people, the more I realize it’s kind of everyone’s flaw. Staying exactly the same for as long as possible, standing perfectly still… It feels safer somehow. If you are suffering, at least the pain is familiar, because if you took the leap of faith, went outside the box, did something unexpected… Who knows what other pain might be out there, waiting for you. Chances are it could be even worse. So you maintain the status quo. Choose the road already traveled and it doesn’t seem that bad. Not as far as flaws go. You’re not a drug addict, you’re not killing anyone… expect perhaps yourself a little.
When we finally do change, I don’t think it happens like an earthquake or an explosion, where all of a sudden we’re like this different person. I think it’s smaller than that. The kind of thing most people wouldn’t even notice unless they look at us really close. Which, thank God, they never do. But you notice it. Inside you that change feels like a world of difference. You hope this is it. This is the person you get to be forever… that you’ll never have to change again.
I have made my mistakes, now I have only my regret to keep me company, voices and books for friends, I walked away from my life’s work and she doesn’t even know it. I know I should move on, let it end there, with loss accepted, I know I should go, something keeps me still. There isn’t so much a cure for regret than as a remedy, you can sit and mourn all you did wrong, ride in the empty fantasy of how you would do it better, only if you could go back, or you can do better now.