Regrets and Not Regrets; By Katlynn Chrans The millisecond it took for my foot to leave the platform of the bridge was the millisecond I realized I didn’t want to fall. August 2017 I woke up to the sun shining through my closed eyes, birds chirping outside the thin glass window that bordered the willow tree on the back of our small house. Today was the day, I was finally a senior, and I would finally be treated like a mature young adult. “Olivia, sweetheart, are you awake?” my moms melodic voice carrying down the hallway called to me, “Yes” I called back, opening my eyes I swung my legs onto the floor, my feet shocked by the cold wood. I opened my side table drawer and grabbed a pair of new socks, to celebrate the occasion, slipping them on I rose from my bed. As I stood in front of my mirror I quickly tied my hair into a bun and wiped the sleep from my eyes. “Honey I have your breakfast, it’s your favourite” she calls from the kitchen. Bounding down the photo
words by a wallfower