Perhaps it is foolish not to regret.
To look back at old photographs
And notice the gaps in my yellowing teeth
And the spots on my skin.
To read my old messages
And be ashamed of the plastic words and smiles.
Shouldn\'t I remember my younger days and push them away?
Would I be wrong to say without it I am freer to grow?
Yet I refuse to participate in my own lament because I was never lame,
Though I sometimes think myself strange I\'m glad that I was.
Not because it made me myself today
But that I was happy in my rarity.
If I was glad once then I will be glad today.
I will only regret my mistakes
But change is not one of them.