Chapter 1: Repentance

My name is Luke Stantan . I am 31 years old and live in the United States. I was born and raised in Los Angeles, where I grew up with my parents and two younger brothers. My childhood was relatively ordinary, full of typical moments of a happy and united family. We lived in a quiet neighborhood, where I played in the streets with my friends and enjoyed a carefree childhood.

At the age of five, I started attending school. Kindergarten was a time of discovery and new experiences. I was a curious and energetic child, always eager to learn and explore the world around me. The years of elementary school were marked by the formation of many friendships. Some of these friendships lasted, while others were fleeting. I had a lot of fun playing with my friends, but I also had moments of sadness and disappointment, something that I believe is part of any child's life.

As I got older, my shy personality started to shine through. Despite having many friends, I was quite reserved and preferred to observe rather than actively participate in the most daring games. When I reached high school, things started to change significantly. People around me were increasingly interested in relationships, and I, despite feeling the same, was too shy to express my feelings .

I talked to girls, thanks to mutual friends, but I never had the courage to confess my feelings. I feared rejection and the embarrassment it could cause. As for boys, I had a group of friends who were quite popular. They were part of several other groups, while I only had them. I often felt left out and inadequate. My reluctance to participate in parties and social activities didn't help.

My parents always talked about the effects and consequences of alcohol, which made me even more distant. My grandfather's death from liver cancer also affected me deeply, contributing to my aversion to partying and alcohol. This loss was a huge blow to me and reinforced my resolve to avoid anything that could harm my health or expose me to unnecessary risks.

These years were challenging for me, both emotionally and socially. I lived in a constant state of anxiety, struggling to find my place in the world and balance my emotions. I watched my friends having fun and forming deeper bonds while I felt increasingly isolated and distant. The pressure to conform to social expectations was enormous, but my fear of rejection and failure always stopped me from taking action.

Despite these difficulties, these years were also times of growth and learning. I developed a strong sense of responsibility and self-discipline, qualities that would come in handy later in life. However, the lack of deep social connections and the constant fear of taking risks left me with a feeling of emptiness and regret that would only deepen over time.

After finishing high school, I separated from my group of friends and went to college, believing it would be a new beginning. My college choice was influenced by the desire to explore new opportunities and perhaps find an environment where I could fit in better. With a mix of anxiety and anticipation, I moved to campus, ready to start this new phase of my life.

Unfortunately, this new phase was not much different from the previous one. In college, I found myself more isolated than ever. I was surrounded by thousands of people, but I still felt completely alone. Without my high school friends, I no longer had that small group I could turn to. I tried to make new friends, but my shyness and emotional reserve continued to be significant barriers.

While other students were busy enjoying parties, social events, and college life in general, I spent most of my time studying or watching TV in my room. I started to become interested in different subjects and used my free time to learn new things. In some ways, learning was a form of escapism, a way to fill the void left by a lack of meaningful social connections.

It was during this period that I started working at a large company, in an office building in Los Angeles. The job opportunity came about through an internship I did during the summer. At the end of the internship, I was offered a permanent position in another city, which led me to make the decision to move to Dallas. This change represented a chance to start over and focus on building a solid career.

I moved to Dallas, rented an apartment and dove head first into work. The work environment was new and challenging, which helped take my mind off the loneliness I felt. Coworkers were friendly, but I maintained the same emotional distance I had with my friends in college and high school. Socializing outside of work continued to be a challenge for me.

My first college party experience was a disaster. I clearly remember that night when I was invited to a party by a classmate. I decided to go, thinking that maybe it would be an opportunity to fit in. However, upon arriving there, I was immediately uncomfortable. There was alcohol, cigarettes and even drugs, all elements that I avoided due to the values I learned during childhood and the traumatic experiences related to my grandfather's illness.

The party was noisy and full of people I didn't know. I tried to participate in the conversations, but I felt out of place. I refused all offers of drinks and, after a few hours of increasing discomfort, decided to leave. This experience reinforced my decision to avoid parties and environments where I didn't feel comfortable. I returned to my apartment and spent the rest of the night watching TV, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment.

That was my only party in college. Instead of participating in university social life, I focused on my studies and work. Life in Dallas became a routine of working during the day and spending nights and weekends alone in my apartment. Although I had co-workers and people I interacted with daily, I was unable to form meaningful bonds.

This phase of my life was marked by deep loneliness and a feeling that I was wasting opportunities. I wanted to fit in, I wanted to make friends and live college life like everyone else, but my fear of rejection and my social discomfort always stopped me from trying. As the years passed, I got used to the solitude, but I never stopped feeling like something was missing in my life.

These years of college and early career were a time of professional growth, but also of increasing personal isolation. I developed valuable skills and gained experience on the job, but the lack of meaningful social connections left an indelible mark on my soul. The feeling of incompleteness continued to accompany me, and I was still looking for a greater meaning in my life.

At 26, after years of loneliness and introspection, I finally decided to try to change my personal life a little. My first attempt to enter the world of relationships was through a dating site. It was new and a little scary territory, but I was determined to try. That's how I met my first girlfriend.

She was smart, funny and seemed to enjoy my company. We dated for 11 months, almost a year, during which I tried to open up and connect emotionally. However, my reserved nature and the strict rules I followed eventually became a problem. She often said that I was too controlled, that I didn't know how to relax and enjoy life. Our relationship ended abruptly when she told me that I had no ecstasy and was a slave to myself and the rules I imagined. This hurt me deeply, but at the same time, I felt like it was indirect advice about how I was living my life. However, at the time, I chose to ignore it, believing that following my rules and avoiding risks was the right path.

After her, I had four more girlfriends, both of whom I also met through dating sites. These relationships were brief and superficial. I tried, but it seemed like something was always missing. My aversion to social situations and my inability to relax continued to be major obstacles. I couldn't give myself fully to a relationship, always afraid of breaking my own rules or putting myself at risk of being hurt.

One of the relationships lasted just a few months. In the first few meetings, it seemed like everything was going well, but as time passed, differences began to manifest themselves. She was more spontaneous, liked parties and socializing, while I avoided all these situations. She eventually got tired of my aversion to going out and socializing and ended the relationship.

The second attempt was no different either. I met a woman who seemed to share some of my interests, but it soon became clear that our approaches to life were very different. She wanted to explore, travel and try new things, while I preferred the security of my routine. That relationship also ended, and I found myself alone again, reflecting on what was going wrong.

My life continued like this, always avoiding risks or doing something against my rules or the laws of the country. I never exceeded the speed limit, I never drank alcohol, I didn't smoke, and I avoided any situation that could be considered risky. He lived a life of extreme caution, believing that this was the right way to live.

Meanwhile, I continued to focus on work. My skills and dedication earned me promotions and professional recognition. However, success at work could not fill the void he felt in his personal life. I worked long hours, and when I wasn't in the office, I spent time alone in my apartment, watching TV or reading.

The safe life I built for myself came at a cost. As the years passed, I noticed that I was becoming more and more isolated and lonely. My co-workers had their own lives, friends and families, while I spent my days immersed in work and my nights in the solitude of my apartment. My few attempts to socialize or enter into a relationship always ended in failure, reinforcing my belief that I was destined to live this way.

I started to question my choices, but at the same time, I felt trapped by them. I didn't know how to change, how to give up control and the rules I imposed on myself. Each new failed relationship, each party avoided, each opportunity to live life fully that I passed up, all contributed to the growing sense of regret and dissatisfaction. My life was passing by, and I was just observing, not really living.

These years of relationships and personal challenges were marked by a constant internal battle between the desire to change and the fear of taking risks. I wanted something more from life, but I didn't know how to get it. My strict adherence to rules and my aversion to risk protected me but also imprisoned me, and loneliness and regret became my constant companions.

As the years passed, my life settled into a predictable routine.

safe . Work, come home, watch TV, sleep and repeat everything the next day. I focused on my career, and although I had achieved professional success, the feeling of emptiness persisted. The loneliness that had become my constant companion bothered me, but I didn't know how to break the cycle.

My attempts at relationships continued to fail, and each breakup left a mark of disappointment. I became more and more immersed in work, using it as a distraction from the reality of my personal life. The years passed, and my routine became more and more ingrained. Work was an area where I could exercise control and feel a sense of accomplishment, unlike my personal life, which felt out of my reach.

Still, the feeling that something was missing never went away. I began to reflect more deeply on my choices and the way I was living. I saw co-workers and acquaintances enjoying life, starting families, traveling and venturing into new experiences. Meanwhile, I was stuck in a life of monotony and self-imposed rules .

I began to realize that although my life was safe, it was also incredibly limited. My rules and risk aversion protected me from possible disappointments, but they also deprived me of any form of joy or genuine excitement. I was living a life without ups or downs, an existence marked by the absence of meaningful experiences.

This realization hit me hard. I started to question whether the security I valued so much was really worth the price I was paying. My life was predictable and without surprises, but also without joy, without adventure, and without deep human connections. I was living inside a bubble that protected me from the outside world, but also isolated me from it.

These thoughts led me to a phase of intense introspection. I began to analyze my choices, my beliefs and my motivations. I realized that in trying to avoid all forms of risk, I was also avoiding all forms of life. I was just existing, not really living.

This realization was difficult to accept. I always believed I was doing the right thing, living a life of prudence and caution. However, the truth was that I was just hiding. My fears and insecurities kept me from exploring the world and experiencing everything life had to offer.

I started to feel regret about the missed opportunities. I thought about the parties I avoided, the adventures I refused and the people I didn't allow myself to meet. Every choice I made to avoid risk now felt like a wasted opportunity. I had sacrificed the possibility of a rich, fulfilling life for a safe but empty existence.

Regret became a constant presence in my mind. I wished I could go back, make different choices, be bolder and less fearful. However, time continued to pass, and I didn't know how to change my life in any meaningful way. The rules I created for myself became a prison, and I couldn't find the key to freedom.

My reflection also led me to realize that although I was aware of my dissatisfaction, I was still afraid to make radical changes. I wanted a different life, but the fear of leaving my comfort zone was paralyzing. This internal dilemma became a constant source of frustration and sadness.

So my life went on, marked by a safe and predictable routine, but also by a growing sense of regret and dissatisfaction. I wanted something more, but I didn't know how to achieve it. My existence was a fragile balance between the security I knew and the deep desire to truly live. Time continued to pass, and I found myself increasingly trapped in a life that didn't satisfy me, but from which I didn't know how to escape.

Now, at 31, my life continues to be a sequence of predictable days.

I work in an office in Dallas, far from my hometown of Los Angeles. I moved here in search of new professional opportunities, but, personally, little has changed. My routines remain the same, and the emptiness I feel only seems to grow.

Driving home after another day of work, I can't help but reflect on my life. The Dallas landscape passes by the car window, and I find myself in the right lane, as usual, avoiding passing other vehicles. Suddenly, a truck in front of me brakes sharply. Instinctively, I hit the brakes as fast as I can, but a log the truck was carrying comes loose, goes through the windshield and hits me in the face. In an instant, everything changes. I was dead. There was no way to save me.

As my life flashed before my eyes, I realized how empty it had been. All the moments of fear, the choices made to avoid risks, and the constant adherence to the rules now seemed insignificant. The life I led was marked by inaction, always following rules and avoiding anything that could be considered risky.

My biggest regret was not a specific decision, but my entire life. The memories showed an existence that was not really lived, but only endured. Reflecting on all this, I realized that I had not experienced the true meaning of living. I died thinking: "Is this it? Did I live like this?"

As I relived my memories, it became clear that my biggest regret was the life I led. It was not a full life, full of experiences and emotions, but a life of excessive caution and fear of living. My regret was for not having truly lived, for having let fear control me and for never having truly taken advantage of the opportunities that life offered. In my last moment, I realized that my biggest failure was having lived within self-imposed limits , without ever really allowing myself to live.

As the final moment approached, I realized that there was no more time for change, for fixing my mistakes or for living differently. My life was over, and I was leaving with a heart full of regrets. The weight of missed opportunities, unmade connections, and unlived experiences was crushing. I was leaving this world with the knowledge that I could have been so much more, that I could have lived a rich and full life, if only I had had the courage to take a risk.

Thus, my story ends with a bitter lesson about the importance of living fully, of not letting fear dictate our choices, and of not allowing security and routine to deprive us of the wonders and adventures that life can offer. It's a reminder that real life happens outside of our comfort zone, and that in the end, it's the experiences and connections that really matter.