What If I Regret It? - By Julienne Merza

Written By: Julienne Merza

Category: Personal Essay

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

In her compelling personal essay "What If I Regret It?", Julienne Merza delves into the intricate themes of fear, regret, and the complexity of making life choices. Her submission to the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 offers a reflective and introspective exploration of how our decisions shape our lives. As the competition celebrates creativity and introspection, Merza's essay stands out for its thoughtful examination of the paths we take and the ones we leave behind.

About the Work

Julienne Merza's essay is a poignant reflection on the nature of regret and the fear of making the wrong choices. Through a deeply introspective narrative, she explores the hypothetical lives that remain unchosen and the weight of decisions that involve others. The piece is rich with self-awareness and poses thought-provoking questions about life's uncertainties, offering readers a chance to reflect on their own choices and the potential regrets that accompany them.

What If I Regret It?

Original Submission by Julienne Merza

People ask sometimes. “What do you fear most?”

My short answer would be my loved ones dying and unrealized potential.

But there are days when my answer is longer. More thought out. And on those days, I think the thing I fear the most is regret. But not just any regret. A regret I didn't choose myself.

I fear waking up one day and realizing I've become this resentful, self-erasing, empty shell of a woman simply because I'm scared of regret itself. That I chose what I thought was safer. More tolerated by this world.

I fear the day that I impose my dreams on my partner, on my future children, on other people with dreams of their own so I could live vicariously through them because I wasn't able to live mine.

And I fear the day I look for love outside of myself because others didn't find it in theirs, so they told me to look elsewhere, and I believed them.

And that, I think, is the regret I fear most. Not that I chose wrong. But that I let fear make the choice for me.

I'm 32 years old as I'm writing this. And yes, I know that isn't exactly an age where anyone expects you to have everything figured out. But that's also the strange thing about being 32. You know enough to realize how little you actually know.

I've come to understand that life, as much as we want to be in control most of the time, is also full of regrets. There will be things I wish I had done differently. Things I will never know because I chose another way. Things I will lose simply because I chose something else.

But if you're self-aware, if you live intentionally, and if you're lucky and privileged enough to sit still and recognize that you actually have choices, you get to choose how you want to live with those unknowns. You get to choose what you're willing to risk regretting.

I think about this a lot when I’m imagining the versions of my life I didn't choose. And in those versions, the job I didn't apply for becomes a version of me who is more confident. The relationship I didn't end becomes a version of me who is more forgiving. The risk I didn't take becomes a version of me who is more certain of herself.

And somehow, the life I actually chose starts to feel like it's always slightly behind. Like it lost without knowing it was competing.

Yet the strange thing about these “imagined lives” is I never imagine the whole thing. I don't imagine the boring parts. I don't imagine the bad days, the delays, the difficult people, or the things that wouldn't have worked out. I only imagine the version of me that got everything right.

And she always seems happier. More successful. More certain. More like the person I think I should have become by now.

But I know those versions aren't real timelines. They're mental drafts. And I keep reopening them because there is something comforting about believing another version of my life could have been better. Because if I can find the right thing I did wrong, I can convince myself that I somehow missed the life I was supposed to have.

But the truth is, I will never know.

And that's probably the hardest part about making choices. You don't get to try every version of yourself first. You don't get to know what would have happened if you had taken another job, moved somewhere else, walked away from certain people, or said yes when you said no. You choose one life, and the rest become questions.

And then there is the question I get a lot at 32. “When are you going to have children?”

My response is always, not anytime soon.

Then it is usually followed by, “What if you're ready but it's too late? What if you regret it?”

And ah, I love that last question. Because it is valid.

It's a question that people, women especially, have probably asked themselves more times than they care to admit. And it's not meant to be an attack. At least that's not how I receive it. Sometimes, I wonder if people are asking because they're curious whether another answer is possible. An answer outside of the one they've already made peace with in their own heads.

And the honest answer is yes. Whatever decision I make about having children, regret will always be the other side of the coin.

Will I regret not having children? Possibly. Will I regret having children? Possibly, too.

But I don't think the question should end with whether I might regret it.

If I choose to have children, who will feel the most impact of that choice? Is it just me? Or are there people I am making that decision for who will also have to live with it?

That's where it becomes different for me. Because if I regret not having children, that regret is mine to carry. But if I have children and later realize I didn't really want the life I chose, I am not the only person living with that realization.

And I think that matters more than people care to admit, especially to themselves.

When other human beings are part of a choice that changes more than just your own life, you don't get to take it lightly. You don't get to say, “But I thought I wanted it. I was sold a lie. Or I made a mistake.” There are other human beings inside the decision too.

So I don't think I'm really choosing between a life with children and a life without them right now. I'm choosing which unknown I am willing to live with.

Because there is no choice that comes with a guarantee. There is no version where I get to know for certain that I won't someday wonder about the other life. And I think I've had to make peace with that.

I'm sure I will have more fears to overcome. I'm only 32, after all. There is still so much I don't know. But right now, with the level of consciousness I have, the greatest fear I have is having regrets that I didn't get to choose for myself.

I don't know if that means I'm making the right choices. I don't know if there is such a thing.

I only know that some versions of my life will always remain hypothetical. That every choice closes one door and opens another, and there will always be a version of me standing behind the door I didn't open, wondering what would have happened if I had.

And perhaps that is the part I am still learning to live with.

Not knowing which version of my life I will one day miss. Not knowing what I will want when I am no longer 32. Not knowing whether the woman I become will thank me for the things I chose or wish I had chosen differently.

I suppose I will find out. Or perhaps I won't. Perhaps some questions are meant to follow you for the rest of your life.

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, hosted by Hashtag Kalakar, invites writers and poets from around the world to showcase their creative talents. This esteemed competition celebrates the power of words and the diverse voices that bring unique perspectives to the literary landscape. It provides a platform for both emerging and established writers to share their work with a global audience.

We extend our gratitude to Julienne Merza for her insightful contribution, "What If I Regret It?", to the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Her exploration of life's uncertainties and the nature of regret offers a meaningful perspective that resonates with many. We look forward to seeing how her reflective journey continues to inspire and engage readers worldwide.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.