Youth is wild, and sometimes those wild choices stick with us longer than we expect.
Taking Responsibility
After a party, I got behind the wheel tipsy. My friends were all completely wasted and convinced me I was the most sober one, so I should drive. We crashed into a tree. One friend died, another was seriously injured, and I and another guy got off with minor injuries. My license was taken away for years, I got a suspended prison sentence, and I lost my friends. Even my family turned their backs on me because the whole village disowned me. I deserved it—it was my fault. Sometimes I imagine going back in time and not getting behind the wheel.
The Investment
The neighbor wanted to sell me his plot in the Danube Bend. It wasn’t huge, but the river view was stunning, and there was a small cabin on it. He offered it ridiculously cheap, saying he was old and wanted it to go to someone he knew. But at the time, I had a girlfriend who’d been nagging me for a year to take her to Bali. She said if I didn’t, she’d pack up and leave. So, foolish me took her on a luxury trip with the money I could’ve used to buy that vacation spot. I didn’t even enjoy it, and a few months later we broke up. By then, the neighbor’s nephew had already snapped up the land. That plot was a real gem and today—it’s no joke—worth 15 times more.
The Race
I loved riding motorcycles—not to show off, but for the pure feeling of freedom. A friend convinced me to race. I still don’t know why I agreed… A car cut me off, and I flew off. The next thing I remember is seeing the clouds. I immediately reached for my leg but felt nothing, and I knew right away I’d never walk again. I’ve been in a wheelchair for 16 years.
Regret
At 23, I drove across the country in the worst snow because of a number that wasn’t even good! To this day, I think about how foolish I was.
Pride
At a party, someone picked a fight with me and insisted we settle it outside. Neither of us was sober, and I’d been boxing for years, so I told him to back off. But my friends teased me, saying, “Are you scared or what?!” We went out, I knocked him out, he fell, and I went back to dancing. Then the cops showed up. It turned out he hit his head on the concrete and died. I served three years, lost my job, my fiancée, everything.
Blinded
I married my high school sweetheart. She was stunningly sexy, kind, and always smiling—I was totally head over heels. I felt insanely lucky when I proposed and she said yes; everyone from our class envied us. I had grand plans for our future, thinking we’d face the world together forever. But she was the kind of girl whose life peaked in high school and only went downhill from there. She became gloomy and unhappy, never smiling anymore. She didn’t try to pull herself out of her depression, just wanted to relive her high school years. She faded inside and out. I stuck by her for twenty years, all for nothing. I thought she’d fall apart if I left, but she didn’t care—in fact, she seemed relieved. Now, at 41, I’m standing here not even knowing how to date—I have to start from scratch.
