Murphy’s Law: How Everything I Told Myself Would Never Happen… Did: Epilogue

Chapter 13: Aaaand This Project Successfully Made me Feel Like I’m on my Deathbed. 

Thanks, Hoffdog (as Garret would say). I have discovered that I would not fare that well as a memoirist-recalling all these memories has made me grossly sentimental, and I feel as though I completed this project in order to prevent the overt mourning of a suffering family of people who never knew me, rather than for a grade. This is probably for the best, seeing as I have an illogical inability to open up to anyone directly and have been required to do so in my chosen format.

Your chosen format, however, requires this epilogue to express how I would live my life over if I had the chance to. Seeing as I am way too young to have any substantial regrets in my life, this may give me some trouble.

Correction: It will give me trouble-I’ve been trying to write this last entry for the past two weeks and haven’t gotten past the gimmick of a freaking bandcamp link to a local band my buddy suggested for me. Maybe that’s something I’d do differently-I’d find the band before her and show her because it would make me feel slightly important and fulfilled for about five minutes and that’s completely important in the scope of our lives.

Here it is, by the way:

https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=2050702341/size=small/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=63b2cc/transparent=true/

Maybe, regrets aren’t life-altering, slam-an-object-on-a-table, scream-until-your-lungs-hurt soap-opera scenes we make them out to be. They could rather be small memories within your head that pop out of nowhere and make you uncomfortable with yourself for a little while.

Here are a few examples:

  • That one time you didn’t stop fast enough when chasing your elementary-school crush and basically licked his arm with your lower lip when he quit running and your face hit him-hard.
  • That one time during the second lunch of your fourth-grade year you laughed so hard you pooped your pants and called your mom and she took you home.
  • That one time you were at gymnastics practice and your arms gave out during your backhandspring and you learned what it felt like to sustain your entire body weight with your neck.
  • That bell-shaped haircut you thought was really cute but actually made you look like a Hobbit foot (trust me, it’s possible)
  • That one time you went to a Kidz Bop concert.
  • That other time you saw Hannah Montana before she left the wig and her childhood behind.
  • Not going to see The Black Keys when Arctic Monkeys opened for them, even though you didn’t get into either band until the year after they came to town.
  • When you thought that being a scene kid was a good idea.

I don’t know, aren’t these all relatable? The general public must have situations similar to these.

I kid. You don’t care about these small incidents, other than the fact that some of them may have provided you with a little laugh. I guess that’s why I don’t necessarily put too much emphasis on regrets. They’re just a source of anxiety and do nothing to improve you as an individual. Even though you may have chuckled a bit at my misfortune, you laughed. I’m not going to get salty about my strange endeavors causing another person’s happiness-that happiness can dissolve my discomfort and help me become whole again. Face-planting into your crush’s arm? That’s hilarious. Not in the moment, of course, but it makes my life much more interesting than it would be otherwise. Pooping my pants? Everyone has done that unless you have a condition or you’re lying. Regrets bring people together because, technically, we should all have them. They’re normally stupid and insignificant, and if they aren’t, they should be called mistakes, not regrets-because a regret is something you wish you could do over again and that’s impossible. We learn from our mistakes, and we don’t expect to have a re-do.

It’s all a perspective thing, as most things are.

Murphy’s Law, am I right?

Thank you so much for following me in this thirteen-chapter exploration of self. I’ll return to some existential-type stuff once the mood arises. It might just be some life-narratives during this Winter Break, due to the fact that Kate is turning 18, Maija is coming back from NY (and is living with me for nine days!!!!!!!!!!!!), the 22nd marks the first month that Bailey and I have been an item (yes, I’m aware it’s an itsy-bitsy amount of time, but I’ve been single for a year and he’s been single for a liiiiiittle longer than that so we’re excited), and my family celebrates Christmas, so there might be a post about that and New Year’s-goodness. So much writing. I’m hype, let’s go!

Much love and happiness in the upcoming New Year!

Quinn ❤

 

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