“I’ve gone all wrong” she said. And she sits so small, and she moves all hush to make little marks in her notebook. A column for me, and a column for her. I don’t know what she’s measuring, and I don’t know what she means.
She always tells me when I ask her, and she hardly ever lies, but I don’t ask her this time.
There’s always that moment after you make a big decision—that split second—where you just know you made the wrong one. And you instantly regret it and you want nothing more than to take it all back. But just stop for a minute. You made that decision for a reason, don’t forget about everything that made you decide on that. Do you really think you made the wrong choice, or do you just feel bad about making the right one?
because even the right choices feel wrong at first