I just have one regret.

I wish I’d been braver. I wish I’d been stronger. I wish I’d been confident in myself.

Then maybe this fleeting, 8-year-old thought would not be whispering in the edges of my mind.

It doesn’t haunt me.

It reminds me that I’m not that same timid girl who was afraid to ask the boy she really, really liked to prom. The same girl who was afraid to ask if he felt the same way.

Like an old friend, it pushes me forward when I want to step back.

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