regrets

I regret giving you this website, because I censor myself on it constantly. I still have to write all my lascivious mortifying fucked-up bullshit LONGHAND, in a spiral notepad. I am sure that I come across as boring, predictable, and/or naive as a result. while I am extremely honest on this site, because I know of no other way to be, I am also very careful. please read accordingly.
I regret being complacent. I sometimes worry that I've forgotten how to be out of control: screaming, throwing shit, being destructive. either I don't have a catalyst or I've finally grown out of it, or both. and that's, you know, excellent. but I still get annoyed and hurt and frantic and weird, on some level, and I worry that I'm not letting people know it, and I'm acquiring a completely odious martyr complex because I think I'm the only person thinking this neurotic crap.
I regret giving you one-way access into my world. I still don't have access to your world. yeah, I noticed.
i don't regret all the things I've thought and written and fantasized about and almost tried to manifest, and I regret that I don't regret that, but does it really matter?
I regret my introversion. sometimes it amuses me, but mostly my self-induced isolation is a fucking pain in the ass.
I regret my lack of free time, and I regret the guilt and auto-gratitude I feel like I must follow such a statement with.
I regret all the times I was a complete or partial cunt.
I regret that my iPhone wants to change "cunt" to "cube."
I regret only being able to in that position.
I regret my lucidity in abhorrent situations, but I am proud of my shame.
I regret not being consistently able to take the moment as it happens... even still.
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I do not regret looking at my reflection and thinking "I am tired and I smile a lot."
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