There’s something I’ve been carrying with me for a long time, something I’ve never really talked about. It’s about something that happened in high school, something I regret and, honestly, feel a little guilty about when I think back on it.

It started in the middle of my sophomore year. There was this girl, Emma, who was in a few of my classes. We didn’t really know each other well at the time, but she had this quiet energy about her that was hard to ignore. I didn’t have many close friends, and I wasn’t one to be outspoken or involved in the crowd, but I noticed her. She was kind, intelligent, and always seemed so effortlessly graceful, and for some reason, I didn’t like that about her. There was this group of friends I hung out with people who, looking back, probably weren’t the best influence. One day, they started making fun of Emma. I wasn’t part of the joke at first, just sitting on the sidelines, but then one of them turned to me and nudged me, like it was a dare or something. And instead of standing up for her, I laughed. I joined in, just like everyone else. It felt like I had to, like if I didn’t, I’d lose my place in the group.

I don’t even know why I let myself do it. It wasn’t like I hated her. I didn’t. I didn’t even know her well enough to dislike her. But I still took part in making her feel small. I watched her face drop, her smile fade, and I didn’t do anything to stop it. The worst part is, I let it happen more than once. Every time it happened, I told myself it was the last time, but then, I’d get sucked into the same thing again. I didn’t have the courage to step up, and I let peer pressure get the best of me. Eventually, Emma stopped coming around. She withdrew, and I saw her less and less in the halls. I never apologized, never told her how sorry I felt for how I treated her.

It wasn’t until years later, after high school ended and I had some time to reflect, that I realized the weight of what I’d done. I wasn’t a mean person, but I had been weak, too afraid to stand up for what was right. I hurt someone who didn’t deserve it, and I had no real excuse for it.

So, I’ve carried this regret with me all these years. It’s not something I can just forget or brush off, and I think I’ll always feel the sting of it, especially when I think of Emma and how she might have felt. If I could go back, I would have stepped up, I would have been the person I wish I had been in that moment. But the truth is, I can’t change the past. All I can do now is own up to it, admit that I messed up, and try to be better moving forward.