it's in your best interest to tell me that this was all a bad dream

The future freaks me out.
It’s like, no, now I can go back to middle school and start over again, because now I know how to deal with it; I know how to do it right. I could change everything. It’s like, come on, how could this not have been a test-run? Surely I can’t be expected to let my decisions over the last nineteen years stick with me for the rest of my life, right? Right?Freshman year, sophomore, junior, senior, first year at college; I can do it now; I know what went wrong. Let me try it again, I know for a fact that I can do it differently. If I think back I would change almost everything. Which leads me to wonder who I would even be right about now. I wonder if I would like that person better. I probably would. It’s like one of those “Choose Your Own Adventure” books you read at the library when you were a kid. “To open the door to the secret passage to escape the pirate, turn to page seven. To use the wizard’s sword to fight him off, turn to page 20.” Something like that.