I've always firmly believed that any choices I'd made, any roads I'd taken, I was supposed to. There was some intermingling of free choice and fate.
But for the first time in my life, the regret is there. And it's not fading away. There's no "This happened for a reason" feeling. No belief that where I am is where I was fated to be. And all of it is because I believed something completely cliched:
If you love something, let it go. If it returns to you then it is yours forever.
There is no returning. There are some things in our lives, some people, that will never return no matter your reasons for letting them go. I'm going to try to come to terms with that. For months I've been pushing this down, ignoring it, believing that I would wake up one day and either it would come back to me - as the cliche states - or I would realize that this is how it was meant to be. No regrets.
It was a good rule. I wish I'd been strong enough to keep living it.