Six-word story.

I feel like this applies to almost every area of my life right now.
I let things pass by and I keep quiet and much later on I hate myself for not speaking up. And it's too late to pick myself up. Soon enough you see him holding hands with another girl or you see yourself doing something you never even wanted too.
The word "speaking" to me means more than talking. Talking feels like spewing impertinent words but speaking feels meaningful.
I just wish I would have spoken.
Many, many countless times.