Regrets, and. ella.
6/13,
3:13 am est.
“We all have our time machines, don’t we? Those that take us back are memories…And those that carry us forward, are dreams.” – H.G Wells
A little background :
I’ve been meaning to finish this for a while, but it has been surprisingly difficult to find that same sizzling urge to write again. It’s quite funny how writing initially began as a means of self preservation and slowly evolved into this subtle line of self sabotage within me. I cannot possibly get better mentally by doing this.
Between smoking (which by the way has somehow become a consistently nicotine-soaked hobby of mine), and talking to my lawyer over increasingly trivial matters, going through a gruesome personal situation, and finally acknowledging the few tiny spectres of light i see in life, I’ve found myself wondering: how long can one continue beating a dead horse? No sane person would consciously do this to himself. Then again, I don’t think sanity has anything to do with whatever this is.
So here I am, sitting alone one random night, listening to M83. Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming is on, as always. The entire album is packed with towering walls of sound and galaxy sized crescendos, interrupted occasionally by poppier, more forgettable moments. But mark my words: there is nothing that feels quite as grandiose, as enormous, as the trifecta of Intro, Wait, and Outro. Their scale is almost baroque, overflowing with raw and unique emotional excess. As I let these songs take over me, I’m nearing the end of The Time Machine by H.G. Wells, which is an absolutely fantastic piece of work. I first picked it up while watching Better Call Saul, and, somewhat ironically, found myself captivated by its central idea. I became obsessed with the notion of writing about a time machine. The entire concept of a time machine as cliche the trope is, is beautiful to me.
Anyways, this has been sitting in my drafts for quite a long time, and I’ve been searching for the right way to finish it. The idea of a time machine first took root in my mind sometime in 2025, when I found myself contemplating how a handful of different decisions might have altered the course of my life. I often wondered what would have happened had I been given the opportunity to return to certain moments and choose differently.
Discussion :
I am talking about a time machine, but that’s not really what this is about. This is really about regrets.
It’s almost cliche to say that there are a few things I would change if I could go back in time. I’m not going to offer some grand social commentary on the matter, but human beings are complicated. For most people, the concept of a time machine is really just…regret.
Me personally, going through a myriad of anxieties every day, don’t enjoy it too much. So if I could sit down, go back in time, and tweak a few things here and there, I would. But I cannot point to which exact moment I’d change. I’ve often repeated that I wouldn’t change a thing about what happened with ella, the good/the bad alike. Oh we are back to ella, yet again. As much of a smart ass as I like to claim myself to be, I never figured out that she had probably made up her mind five years ago when she first met me. She was never going to let that other side of herself get to me, and I was never going to be a special person for her.
The idealized version of ella in my head, this girl, is not even close to what I have fictionally crafted. She isn’t some tragic character whom I found at the right place at the right time, who somehow mystically created a better version of me. But what she really was, is fascinating, though. There are bits and pieces of her that I enjoy and cherish even now, things that have helped shape me into the person I am today. Whether that person is good or bad is totally not the sigil of this conversation, but the fact that one person can have such a profound impact on another is a mind-blowing thing if you really think about it.
She was a very sober girl. The mannerisms were there, and I managed to pick up a few interesting hobbies because of her. The most basic example being that I didn’t even know what a crescendo meant until she introduced the word to me, and now I’ve become the geezer of crescendos. I live and die for them.
Anyways, moving on. As I would like to point out, it’s very easy to get lost in these trains of thought and become frustrated with myself. Frustrated that I didn’t do more to help myself before it was too late, that I could have done better. I beat myself up over the most minuscule of shortcomings.
But is there a specific moment in time that I could go back to and redo, one that would fundamentally alter the course of my life? For me personally, I don’t think I have an answer just yet. Maybe it’s because I have far too many regrets. Or maybe it’s because none of them seem significant enough on their own.
At the same time, a part of me wonders whether it’s even worth talking about regrets or time machines when the present feels so damned. What good is obsessing over alternate timelines when I’m still struggling to make sense of the one I’m living in? :)