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Not being there when my first love died...
Let me explain. Vincent, my first love and boyfriend and I had been together for seven years. We had been lifelong friends, and I finally made the move on him when I couldn't hold in my feelings anymore. Luckily, he decided that he felt the same about me. We had a very interesting relationship. Both of us were still living at home with our respective parents, and totally in the closet.
One Saturday night, he wanted to go out drinking. He was 23, I was 22. I didn't feel great that night, and told him I was staying home. I think he was a little pissed that I had said "no" and went out anyway. He wasn't drunk, but his car slid on a patch of black ice, and crashed into tree. He died. I still live with the survivor's guilt. Maybe if I had gone with him, I would have driven instead. Maybe I would have been able to save him if we had been in that accident together. Maybe we would have died together. Who knows...
Even after 26 years, and my life has continued, I still think about him each day.

Not telling a very close friend that I loved her and then ten years later finding out she loved me and was waiting for me to say something. Missed chance and major regret, things would have been very different.






