I am twenty-two years ignorant, twenty-two years mature, and twenty-two years innocent as to what divine fate has in store for me. This is coming from a girl that knows the consequences of having too much tequila and still chooses to have too much tequila… on a Tuesday.

What I mean to illustrate to you is that I don’t have all of the answers, in general, about anything. What I do possess is an absurd amount of useless realities that might win me some mediocre prize at trivia night; let’s hope it’s a 50% off voucher for a pitcher of margaritas…

But seriously let’s hope. Hold hands and join me in hoping:

Let’s hope that after college I get to do what I am most passionate about day in and day out, making stacks of money. Just kidding, you know what I mean. And let’s all band together and hope that I don’t die single—I get a lot of anxiety thinking about that. Lastly, let’s hope that tequila will never give me the “worst morning of my life” like Bacardi has, and hope that I will forever be able to drink from Jose’s infinite fountain of filtered agave.

Thank you to all who has hoped these for me. I wish you the same.

Now on to my real point.

Why do we as humans—error-filled, fleshy, hopeful, wonderful, beautiful, creative humans—continuously do destructive things? I am not necessarily talking about our capability of dumping metric shit tons of carbon dioxide and shit into our ecosystems knowing the full extent of the repercussions of our actions and yet we still continuously do it, but that example sort of works. I more or less talking about the conscious decision I make to go out almost every Thursday, like clockwork, and join in on my favorite weekly festivity, Tequila Thursday, even though I know one margarita will turn into ten-ish and I have to be up for a staff meeting and classes by… let’s just say too early. My error-filled fleshiness chooses margaritas every time.

And I’m talking more so about deeper level things than the imposed question: to margarita or not to margarita? Like why do I inherently fall asleep with my makeup on when I know that it will age me thirty years, so they say, in one night? Why do I obsessively pick at my pimples when my mother has excessively warned me not to do so? Well, I now have acne scars, and yet I still pick at my face. Why do I insist on flushing my used wet wipes down the toilet when I have been warned not to? I don’t know, I just do.

These decisions, and more, are pieces to a basic equation and the solution? The perfect regret. That’s the conclusion I have come to.

I searched “quotes about being human and having regrets” in Google and so far, I have been disappointed in the outcome. Every last one of these categorical quotes had something so profound to say about regret. I just needed one to outright tell me that too much tequila will kill me.

I will end in with a quote.

“To be old and wise, you first have to be young and stupid.”- Unknown

With that, I send you off to make your own “regrets.” Drink too much tequila, stay up too late, show up a little late to work at least once, but grow. Grow out of your destructive habits and learn.

Have fun.