Man, why do I have to go through this?
I thought, feeling a surge of anger rise within me.
My brother and cousin had been at it again, throwing dark jokes in my direction. It had become a regular thing. Every day, something new—each joke a little sharper, a little more biting.
I was tired of it. I had asked my parents to step in, but they laughed it off. "Boys will be boys," they'd say, as if the jokes didn't sting.
I didn't retaliate. I never did. Maybe I was scared of confrontation, scared that if I fought back, I'd be pushed further away. Maybe I was scared of being isolated in my own home. So I kept quiet, kept enduring.
But today, they crossed a line.
It was my birthday. 1 AM. Not exactly the time I expected a celebration, but still—nothing. No wishes, no greetings. Just silence. Everyone else was awake, playing games, laughing, and then my brother made another joke at my expense.
That was it. I couldn't hold it in anymore.
I stood up. Without thinking, I punched him. It wasn't like me at all. I had never raised my voice against him. But today, in that moment, everything just exploded. He was stunned. The room fell silent.
The regret hit me instantly, deep and suffocating. What had I done?
I wanted to apologize. I needed to. But the anger still had a hold on me, and then my pride kicked in. I didn't say a word. I didn't know how to fix what I had broken.
And now, everything's different. We barely speak. The distance between us has become this heavy, silent wall.
I've tried to tell myself it doesn't matter, that I had no choice. But deep down, I know:
.
.
.
.
.
I Lost My Chance And Now I Am Left With Regrets.