I regret calling you "turtle" when the steroid you were on for your asthma made you retain water and look all round and bloated.
I regret making fun of the asthma camp you went to all those summers.
I regret those years when I was bigger than you when I would hold you down during a fight and tell you I was going to bite your nose off like the Penguin in Batman Returns.
I regret acting like a brat on your 8th birthday.
I'm regret telling the neighborhood kids you had worms when you got ringworm.
I regret telling on you.
I regret not telling on you.
I regret not dropping everything to move back to Columbus to make you live with me.
I regret that one time I covered your bed in ketchup.
I regret that you had to fight your school bus bully instead of doing it for you. He was my age, after all.
I regret not getting a better paying job so I could support you.
I regret trying to keep you out of my room when I had friends over.
I regret not teaching you how to properly throw a baseball. Jesus, you were so, so bad. It was embarrassing to watch. Painful, even. I, ugh, I can't think about it now without cringing.
I regret not being more encouraging of the things you did well.
I regret making you feel bad for being allergic to cats and being the reason I couldn't have one.
I regret not pushing Mom and Dad to send you to military school when you begged to go.
I regret rolling my eyes at you in the hall at school when you went through that hair gel phase.
I regret not just giving you the goddamned Chumbuwumba CD.
I regret all those times I just brushed you off as a pain in the ass instead of really talking to you.
I regret that year we didn't talk after our huge Christmas Day fight.
I regret not being a kinder, more sensitive person you may have felt more comfortable confiding in when you first started getting into trouble.
I regret judging instead of listening.
I regret being so hard on you to change.
I regret not being hard enough.
I regret that the last time I saw you, I brought a six pack of beer. What was I thinking? I know what I was thinking. I was thinking, wouldn't it be nice to have a beer with my brother, like normal people do? And then you drank four of them so fast, and would have drank a fifth but I pretended to want another so you wouldn't. I'm sorry I was so stupid. I'm sorry I put wanting to be "normal" with you above what was best for you. I'm sorry I gave up trying to fix you. I just didn't want you to be mad at me anymore.
I am sorry that I'm the one editing your book. But so far, I don't regret it.
I've been finding it very difficult to go about editing this book the way I have been. I feel like publishing it as I go is not onl...