Yap

Regret is a funny thing. It sneaks up on you long after the moment has passed—when there's no going back, when all you can do is wonder. Wonder about what could have been, what might have been if only you'd made a different choice. If only I had been braver. I often find myself lingering in that space between “what happened” and “what could have happened,” thinking about the decisions that shaped my journey into university life.

There was a moment, a pivotal one, where everything could have been different. I remember sitting down to fill out the choices for my college entrance test. It’s one of those defining moments, and you’re supposed to feel excited about it—like your future is right there in front of you. But instead, I felt fear. The fear of failure, of rejection, of aiming too high.

My dream university had always been a part of the vision I had for myself. I could see myself walking through the campus, sitting in the lecture halls, wearing that university's alma mater. It was a place that spoke to me, but it also felt out of reach—like it was reserved for people smarter, braver, or more deserving than me. So, when the time came to choose, I hesitated.

Perhaps I could include it, I thought. Maybe I should. But almost as quickly, doubt took over. What if I didn’t make the cut? What if I failed and had to face that disappointment? The idea of rejection felt too overwhelming. So, instead of taking the chance, I played it safe. I chose universities that I knew I had a better shot at, ones that felt within my reach.

And then, the results came out.

I still remember the feeling as I stared at my score on the screen. My heart dropped, not because I hadn’t done well, but because I realized that my score was good enough. Good enough to get into my dream university. If I had just included it in my choices, if I had just taken the leap, I would have made it. But I didn’t. I had allowed fear to make the decision for me.

It was a strange mix of emotions. On one hand, I was proud of my score. I had worked hard, and it had paid off. On the other hand, there was this sinking feeling of “almost.” I was so close. Perhaps, maybe, almost—I could have been there, in that dream university, if only I hadn’t let fear win.

Looking back, I realize that the fear of failure can be more paralyzing than failure itself. I had already assumed defeat before the battle even began. And the irony is that the very thing I was afraid of—rejection—never happened. Instead, I faced the regret of not even trying. Of course, life goes on, and I’m happy with where I am now. But every once in a while, I wonder what things might have been like if I had just taken that risk.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this, it’s that sometimes, the bigger risk is not risking at all. It’s letting fear dictate your choices and living in the shadow of “what could have been.” Because when you look back, you don’t want to live in a world of perhaps, maybe, or almost.

So, if you’re ever at that crossroads, facing a decision that feels too big or too uncertain, I urge you—choose to risk it. It might be scary, and there’s no guarantee you’ll succeed, but at least you’ll know that you tried. That’s a much lighter burden to carry than the weight of wondering what could have been.