Regret.

I always wondered that when I reached the ripe age of 95, will I have any regrets in my life? Being only 22, I can think of at least one that I have:
When I was about 10, my mother enrolled me in a dance class at an Indian dance studio. I had a huge passion for dance and I was really good at it, so I thought, why not take classes? The first few weeks of the class was easy and mundane. Then one day in class, my dance teacher turned on music and dared one of us to dance in front of everyone. He wanted to see who would be brave enough to do it. I was so nervous and scared that I just stood there, swearing to myself that I’d never go back if he would continue to put us on the spot, and so I never went back.
I later enrolled in hip-hop and tap classes, which I enjoyed immensely. Yet, whenever I heard Indian music or watched people perform Indian dances, a part of me yearns to be on stage dancing. In fact, I know I have a certain look on my face whenever I see Indian dancing. It’s this look of complete awe and sometimes it’s a little bit of regret in the thought that it could have been me dancing.
Looking at where I am now, I’m proud of how far I’ve come in everything I’ve achieved thus far, but when I’m alone in my room, turn on Indian music, and really dance, that regret dances with me too. I am a firm believer in the “it’s never too late” motto and I would enroll into dance classes but I don’t have the money or the time right now. I can’t wait until I do though, that way I can bring that part of my heart alive with dance. I don’t want to live with the regret that I stopped doing one of the things that made me feel alive, living now without it hurts me enough.