Neon Regrets
I was there, floating above the couch, sipping invisible tea with the Queen of Mistakes. She whispered, \"Regrets taste like cardboard.\" Should have known better, what\'s wrong with my head? My head, a jigsaw puzzle missing the last piece—a piece that wandered off to join a traveling circus.
I lied about not feeling good. Said I had a date with a melancholy walrus, should have told the truth. Truth is, I was afraid of the disappearing act. Afraid I\'d dissolve into a puddle of neon regret, never to be mopped up.
I\'ll never forget this day. I am always saying the wrong words, always inviting in the ghosts of embarrassment. They dance on my tongue, play hopscotch with my intentions. I promise to think of what I\'m saying, before I say them. But promises are soap bubbles, and my words are pin-prick. My life\'s a jukebox playing the same sad song, but with a laugh track.