There are many things in my life that I regret, some more than others. I'd like to think of people as they pertain to my regrets versus the particular events that I associate with them in my memory. Since memory isn't really pure fact, events don't usually mean much, because of this, I will use the example of the time I burned a bridge with my "best friend".
Now heres some background, my "best friend" used to be a pretty awesome guy, a real "brother" I guess you could say, he was a true friend in its most pure form. However, as time went on, his ego started to get the best of him, he came from a wealthy family and never had to work for anything, in school he could get away with anything, he could plagiarize work, never show up to class, hit on the underclassmen; he had no shame and it was as if he was classically trained in the art of manipulation. Of course, I didn't fall for any of it, it was all be neath me. But his antics quickly got the best of me as well, he began to steal my ideas, my personal taste, essentially everything I had when it came to self-expression. I started to grow an animosity towards him, something I always kind of felt, but now magnified to a degree I had never seen in myself before. He became cruel, self-absorbed, a prima donna that takes and takes but never gives back. So the day came where I basically had enough of this, I was wasting my time being friends with him.
It was the beginning of my Freshman Fall semester at UCF; a time where new friendships and a new social foundation was to be made. My "best friend" asked me if I wanted to room with him for the semester, and I was truly happy that he asked me, but not because I actually wanted to, but because I now had the chance to tell him how truly pathetic he was. "You know what, I'm going to have say "No" on this one, not because I don't want to, but because its the right thing to do," I had said to him in an apathetic, but serious, manner. After I said that, I essentially told him everything that would back up my reason not to live with him, and apparently was very successful since his parents even had to call me, where I repeated the same thing except used "your son" instead of "you", which made it sound so much more effective. My regret was never burning this bridge sooner, hell, I could've made some great friends during that time too.
This regret is and will always be a momentous story, as there are many details to include that would coincide with Davis's story structure. I am the main character, and my "best friend" is the antagonist. We are friends in the beginning of the story. Our departure from High school to College would be Act 1, and then in Act 2 would be crucial, where my hatred and reasons for the hatred begin to flourish exponentially, the ordeal itself is the way out. In Act 3 is where, the refusal of the return and the crossing of the threshold are one in the same thing, they become the Return itself. This is where I burn the bridge and catharsis ensues. The anguish, the hatred, and the pity are removed and my existential crisis is solved, I am moving forward, creating new foundations, and truly living my social life the way that I intend.
