I was sitting in German class today, messing around as usual when someone says something about “unbreaking” a pencil. And my friend Meesh says “You can’t unbreak something. You can fix it, but it can never be un-broken.”
We discussed suicide in English today. Talking about whether or not there is some amount of courage in suicide.
Both of these things have me thinking about the final-ness of some things.
I failed my drivers licence test three times. I cannot undo that. I can’t change my story and I can’t change that record. When I’m 47 and teaching my kids to drive, I will have to say to them “it is ok, I failed my test three times. You can’t do much worse than that.” That part of my history and my life is written and not up for debate.
I can’t take back all the words I have said that have caused pain to others. I can’t take back my actions toward that Blue Eyed Boy who I hurt with my stupidity. I can’t cover the wounds caused by the words I said to the girl who used to be my best friend. I can’t take back all of the times I’ve been mean to my little brother. I can’t un-send the desperate and stupid text messages I’ve sent to that Brown Eyed Boy I’ve wasted so much time on. I can’t take back the accidental stupid and embarrassing things I’ve said.
I’ve thought about getting a tattoo, because, who hasn’t? But they’re so permanent. You can’t get un-tattooed, you can remove it, but not undo it.
I can’t stop growing up, or go back in time (darn not being a Time Lord.)
We make so many final decisions that we can’t take back every single day. Why don’t we think more about the moments we are living in? I can’t help but feel that I only have so many moments left, and I want my decisions to be ones I won’t have to attempt to un-break.