I wish I had remembered to forgive myself for things that weren’t my fault, and the things that were.
I wish I could’ve seen through the false intentions and scream to myself to run away.
I wish I could’ve known better than to be taken advantage of.
What I wish the most is that I would’ve been more kind to my heart for all the aches it weaved around itself like a defence mechanism. A scar so fresh it could barely stretch away.
I wish I could’ve known better than to carry it like a weight on my shoulders. A shadow underneath my whispers. A guilt that lingered with every passing and coming happiness. A void that fed on speculations of a mind that had wandered for days on end with no sleep to cloak over it with a peaceful mindfulness.
I wish I had become my own savior sooner.
I wish I would’ve acknowledged that I too am human and I too am flawed and that I too am capable of breaking hearts … even if that meant my own.
I wish I could go back to the day we met. I would have left her there.