The Ghost of the "Alternative Life": A Grief Without a Grave

Lost potential and opportunities that I wish would have presented themselves…..

There is just so much to say and not enough words. Where would my life be if things had just been different? What would it have taken to actually score the one boy in my class that could’ve altered my life path??

I started this July 2025 right after a funeral for a classmate and the devastating Kerrville flooding. I was haunted for weeks by the lost potential.

The Tragedy of the "Almost"

I believe the saddest tragedy in the world isn't always what we lose; it’s what we never had the chance to become. I grieve for the lost potential—in the world, in the people I love, and most acutely, in myself. It is a quiet, persistent ache for the opportunities that never knocked and the doors that were locked before I even reached for the handle.

The Boy and the Altered Path

I find myself thinking about a specific boy from my class years ago. It’s not just a crush; it’s a symbol. I wonder: What would it have taken to score the one person who could have altered my life path? If I had been seen by him—or if I had been in a place to be seen—would I have bypassed the years of running? Would the Austin neon have been a backdrop for a different story, one without the "fleeing" and the "demons"?

The "What If" vs. The "What Is"

It is easy to get lost in the "What Ifs."

What if I hadn't been raised in a house of transactional love? * What if my potential hadn't been spent on surviving someone else's addiction? * What if the timing had been just a fraction different?

There are not enough words to describe the weight of that unlived life. It feels like a beautiful, eclectic quilt that was never even started.

Reclaiming the Potential

But here is the hard truth I am learning in the stillness of my Coleman kitchen: Potential doesn't expire. The girl in the classroom may have missed that specific path, but the woman sitting here with her Dirty Chai is the one who finally stopped running. Maybe the "lost potential" isn't a funeral; maybe it’s a seed that just had a very, very long winter.

I am grieving the girl I could have been, so that I can finally give the woman I am permission to exist.

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