If I Could Take It Back

Marilyn was fed up. She was sitting in her homeroom class and all around her conversation was buzzing. What people had done the evening before. People’s plans for the party next weekend. And, every more frustratingly, the regrets wall on the wall of the old Maths mobile.

Sure, Marilyn thought to herself bitterly. It’s good in theory, but what good is it really doing?

People were talking about how good they felt once they had let their regrets out. But Marilyn understood better than anyone that sometimes you couldn’t just let a regret out. It wasn’t that easy. Sometimes you had a regret so deep and so dark that it was all you could do just to acknowledge it, let alone tell everyone about it.

That was what Marilyn’s problem was. She wanted to make it clear now that whatever she had done was going to stay firmly in her head, and no one was going to find out about it, ever. It was too shameful. Too embarrassing. Too horrible. She just wanted to make it go away.

So the last thing she was going to do was write it on some stupid wall! People always seemed to think that life could be that simple, but Marilyn knew otherwise. Surely life-changing events happened in places more interesting and inspiring than some old Math mobile wall covered in Sharpie marker?

"Are you paying attention, Marilyn?" the teacher suddenly called to her. Marilyn jumped slightly.

"Yeah," she muttered. "I am."

"Then why have I had to wait so long for you to answer your name?" the teacher asked, rolling his eyes. Marilyn clenched her fists and glared. She was so frustrated, and she didn’t know why. Perhaps it was the fact that everyone seemed to be raving about this fantastic new wall?

Marilyn got the feeling that somebody was watching her. She turned around, feeling the anger in her eyes as soon as they met the eyes of another girl in her class. Marilyn recognised Isabella, the girl who had spoken about the drugs.

"You’ve got to remember what Chloe said," Isabella said, in a voice that bordered, annoyingly, in Marilyn’s eyes, on near sing-song.

"It’s registration," Marilyn hissed back, but her less-than-welcoming tone rolled right off Isabella like water off a duck’s back.

"Someone got up on the wrong side of bed," she chuckled, and, to Marilyn’s horror and annoyance, the other girl jumped up and pulled up a chair next to her. "So, what’s bothering you?"

"If you’re going to preach about that damn wall, I’m not interested," Marilyn muttered
.
"I never mentioned the wall," Isabella said knowingly. "So it’s you whose mind it’s on. Why?"

"It’s lame," Marilyn muttered, glaring at the desk.

"Is it?" Isabella asked, an eyebrow raised. "I think it’s a wonderful idea."

"So does the rest of the school."

"That many people can’t be wrong."

"They damn well can," Marilyn said, her voice raising a little.

"Why do you think it’s lame?"

"Because!" Marilyn burst out. "Writing your regret on a wall doesn’t make it go away! It doesn’t make it all better again! It’s just a standing testimony to what you’ve done, and that’s it!"

"You mean, it just reminds you of what you did?" Isabella asked thoughtfully. "I guess I never thought of it like that."

"How did you think of it, then?" Marilyn asked, her voice calming a little now.

"I guess I just thought of it as a method of acceptance," Isabella smiled. "I think that, by writing something down and admitting that you’ve done something wrong, you’re on your way to letting it go."

"But sometimes you can’t tell anyone what your regret is," Marilyn said, confused. "Sometimes your regrets are meant to stay hidden, perhaps you don’t want to tell everyone?"

"In that case, just admit you have one," Isabella smiled. "No one’s saying that you have to pour your heart and soul out onto that wall. Just a simple acknowledgement could be enough."

Isabella’s words stayed with Marilyn as she went to her first period class. She didn’t want them to, but they had.

Marilyn was feeling increasingly bad that she hadn’t thought of that in the first place. She didn’t know what had made her think that she had to be completely honest on that wall, and she guessed she was just jealous that everyone was getting by happily while she was lugging what felt like the world around on her shoulders.

Perhaps she could check it out? Marilyn toyed with the idea until lunchtime, having a frantic to-and-fro in her head.

She had always said it was a lame idea. But then, she hadn’t actually tried it. But that’s because it was lame. But how could she judge if she had never given it a go?

Marilyn decided that it was probably pride preventing her from checking this wall out, and so she decided that perhaps now was the time to swallow it. However, she still made sure that no one saw her slip out the little side door.

Once outside, she ran through the damp grass and towards the wall, slowing as she approached, perhaps nervous that there would be people already there. However, things were obviously meant to work out this way because, today, for the first lunchtime since word had gotten around, the wall had no admirers.

Marilyn stopped and looked at it from a distance for a few minutes. There was certainly nothing special about it. The dilapidated little classroom it belonged to was overgrown and with a few smashed windows, it looked more like the setting for a childhood urban legend than a miracle of redemption. Marilyn snorted a little at the thought. The wall itself was currently facing more in the sun’s direction, so it looked as though it had a strange glow around it.

Rolling her eyes slightly, Marilyn looked skywards for the angels. Shouldn’t they be singing by now?

The old picnic bench was there as well, overgrown and damp. Marilyn still placed her bag on it as she turned to face the wall.

"Well, here we go," Marilyn muttered to herself. "I’m finally checking it out, I hope everyone’s happy."

Her eyes scanned over the wall quickly, as though already writing it off as lame, but as certain things jumped out at her she began to take her time, even unconsciously stepping closer. She felt herself beginning to change her ideas about the wall as she realised that each sentence was an attempt by somebody to relieve themselves of what had been troubling them. Also new were messages of support from people who were lucky enough to need this relief just yet.

Marilyn knew at that point. She got what she hadn’t been getting beforehand. She realised that you didn’t have to be completely honest – that wasn’t what this wall was about. This wall was about accepting your faults and realising you’re not alone. This was about being able to touch base with those like you. This was a place to come when you felt all alone, to realise that you’re not. You’re not alone.

Marilyn felt strangely emotional. She didn’t think that she would have felt like this, but the epiphany she had just experiences was unlike anything she had ever learn in school or by talking to friends, or from searching her own soul. This was something special.

Silly though it sounded, as Marilyn thought a wall couldn’t ever make a difference in someone’s life, but it was true. She felt as though she had been sobered to the ideas of other people’s problems, and she was barely able to realise what she was doing until she found she was writing her own message on a clean area, in green Sharpie.

I REGRET DOING WHAT I DID.

"There," she whispered to herself. "No more needs to be said. I know what it means. Other people know I don’t want to reveal it yet. That’s it. Not hard."

She guessed she was trying to convince herself more than anything, because she felt as though she was exposing a very vulnerable piece of her soul onto this wall that anyone could see. But then again, so had many others.

She took a while to pull herself away, only managing to do it when she heard the shrill ringing of the bell, signalling that lunch was over ands it was time to get back to class.

She chuckled to herself. She never thought she would have such an alternating experience because of a wall, a Sharpie and a few words. Life experiences could come in some weird places. And also in places which, at first glance, seemed "lame".

Marilyn smiled and shook her head at the thought. Perhaps now she would give things a go before she turned against them. After all, these things weren’t handed to you on a plate.

She did feel a little better, when she thought about her regret. She didn’t feel as though it were a guilty secret anymore, as though she was a bad person for not admitting it. She had admitted it to herself, if not anyone else. And sometimes, she knew that you had to make peace with yourself before you started trying to make peace with other people.