Something I scribbled over summer and just uncovered.
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There comes a time in one's life where all of the small lost moments of life build up. Where there once was a valley, for then every second was wisely spent in wonder or opportunity, there lies the base of a mountain. First comes the deposits of pebbles: the popsicle not eaten, the tree that one was tempted to climb but didn't. Then time slowly graduates these pebbles to stones and then to boulders. The chance one didn't take with that one chance to travel the world. The kiss lost by spending that time kissing another. The mountain begins to tower over you until one day, you are engulfed in the shadow of its might, half in fear and half in awe at the sheer number of lost moments. Both fear and awe in that dawn of realization combine into......regret. How you had loathed to regret anything in life, being able to move on and find the next best thing, and yet, as one gazes into the pile of memories never formed, it is easy to distinguish the rubble and sand for what it is. But within the sooty forgotten spheres, my hand uncovered a pearl, one that didn't belong in this mountain that could never be, because it could still be.