𝗕𝗨𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘

𝟭𝟳. 𝗕𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗮𝗶𝗱

Regret.

It's a very powerful word. From the way it sounds as the letters roll off of your tongue, to the way it's written-it holds power.

It's a strong word because of its strong meaning- 'a feeling of sadness, repentance, or disappointment over an occurrence or something that one has done or failed to do'

But those twenty words do not define regret to me. Regret is the feeling that lurks at the bottom of my stomach when I catch sight of the semi-colon tattoo stamped behind my ear. The tattoo or the action? I don't know what I wish I didn't do more.

Regret is every puff of nicotine I inhale, and every cloud of weed I exhale. Knowing every drag is potentially knocking off years of my life but I'll continue to do it anyway.

It's the first word that comes to mind when drugs do, it's the only thing I can hear when my brain floats back to six months ago.

Lines of coke.

Girls screaming.

And a boy.

A boy that haunts my memories, for all the wrong reasons.

So regret is not the disappointment over an occurrence or something someone has done to me. Regret is the feeling I hold towards myself, within myself.

Regret is me and I am regret, just a bundle of loose strings trying to stick themselves together to be one.
Might not be strong but it's something right?

I slam my hand on my phone, doesn't do much to get rid of the ringing alarm that's blaring through the speaker though. I lean forward and press stop, relishing in the silence. I drag myself out bed because as much as I wish there was, there's no one else here to do that for me. As soon as I've freshened up I throw on another pair of low waisted cargos and a long sleeve cut out crop top.

It's nothing special but it's more than what I usually do for school, people will just have to wait for later if they want to see me in a proper outfit.

My nightmares woke me up considerably earlier than usual, meaning I have an extra fifteen minutes to spare which I spend playing with Ettie. Only placing her back in the cage when she tries to make a run for the fucking door; exhausting little fiend sometimes.

Since I have Miss McKinley for firsts again I decide it's best to set off for my morning coffee now, getting Kaylee her first birthday macchiato too. Tradition.

Everyone is already at school by the time I arrive, after wishing my best friend a happy birthday I sit down and we talk about everything that's going to go down at the back of Craigs.

We've got a private room booked out just for her, including dancers, personal cocktail makers and many more ridiculous people hired to do things I didn't even realise were classed as jobs; but that's just Kaylee for you- she'll always go the extra mile.