Questions
What's the dumbest thing someone has ever tried to do to win you over?
If you could travel through time, would you go to the future or the past?
My POV/Answers
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The Cost of Pretence
The dumbest thing someone ever tried to do to win me over was not loud or dramatic. It was subtle, almost strategic. A family friend, someone who had known me for years, suddenly began to deny parts of himself. He denied long-standing friendships. He denied certain values he once defended boldly. Most surprisingly, he lied about his point of view on religion and even denied the church he faithfully attended, all because he believed it would make him appear more aligned with me.
I remember listening to him speak with a confidence that was clearly rehearsed. He dismissed beliefs he once spoke about with passion. He claimed indifference toward practices he had publicly supported. It was not ignorance that made it foolish; it was the assumption that I could not see through it. Authenticity is not something you negotiate for affection. When someone abandons their own foundation just to impress, it does not feel flattering, it feels unstable to me.
What made it more disappointing was the history attached. This was not a stranger guessing what might appeal to me. This was someone who knew that I value conviction, even when it differs from mine. Instead of standing firm in his truth, he reshaped himself into what he imagined I preferred. The effort was obvious, and that obviousness stripped it of any charm it might have carried.
Affection built on performance cannot last. When a person edits their identity for approval, they unknowingly present a version that cannot be trusted. I found myself more distant, not because of disagreement, but because of the quiet realization that sincerity had been replaced with strategy, and strategy is a fragile foundation for anything meaningful.
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Beyond Regret: Why I Would Choose the Future
I know I have made a lot of mistakes and wrong choices in the past. Some of them still visit my thoughts at quiet hours, and I sometimes wish I could turn back time and correct them. The idea of rewriting certain scenes of my life sounds comforting. It feels safe to imagine a second chance where I say the right words, take wiser steps, and avoid painful outcomes. Yet, if I am honest with myself, I begin to question that desire.
What is the real point of going back to the past? Even if I corrected one mistake, would it not change other events in ways I cannot predict? The past, with all its flaws, has shaped my present strength, my lessons, and even my ambition. Erasing it might mean erasing the growth that came from it. Regret has been a strict teacher, but it has also refined my judgment.
If I were given the rare privilege to travel through time, I would choose the future. The future carries answers. It holds the results of the efforts I am making now. It offers the opportunity to oversee what lies ahead and possibly divert any calamity that would have occurred. I am driven by curiosity, but more than that, I am driven by the need for assurance. I want to see whether my sacrifices will yield meaning, whether my dreams will stand firm, whether the path I am walking leads somewhere worthy.
Choosing the future is not an escape from responsibility. It is a desire for vision, for clarity, for a glimpse of what can still be shaped while there is still time to shape it.