Regret is often imagined as a faithful companion to memory: a voice that reminds us of what could have been, a wound that teaches us not to repeat our mistakes. Yet not every regret is born of truth. At times, regret is nothing more than a convenient fiction — a story we invent to shield ourselves from the unbearable weight of reality. As Nietzsche reminds us, humans often construct illusions to survive existence’s cruelty; regret can be one of these life-preserving fictions.
The Mask of False Regrets
There are moments when sadness has no clear object. Instead of facing the void directly, we clothe it with excuses: “If only I had chosen differently,” “If only I had spoken then.” These small regrets serve as masks. They are easier to endure than admitting the possibility that our suffering has no clear cause — or worse, that it exposes an emptiness we cannot name.
In this sense, regret becomes theater. Montaigne observed that humans invent narratives to soothe their minds, and in this theater, we play the role of the guilty one — not because we are guilty, but because the script shields us from helplessness. False regrets are not signs of memory but instruments of avoidance.
La Rochefoucauld would note here one of the subtler forms of self-love: we prefer to regret something rather than confront the naked truth of our own weakness.
Regret as Addiction
This avoidance exacts a cost. Fictional regrets act like a drug: they soothe for a moment, but enslave over time. The more we feed on them, the more dependent we become on their illusion. Instead of confronting reality’s bitter shock once and for all, we dilute it into endless doses of “what if.”
The danger is subtle: regret feels honest, yet its dishonesty lies in its persistence. The longer we consume these fictions, the weaker our capacity to face truth. We grow addicted to shadows, fearing the sun. Nietzsche would call this a subtle form of self-deception: the mind invents phantoms to avoid the abyss.
§146. He who fights with monsters should take care not to become a monster in the process. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will also gaze into you. — Beyond Good an Evil
“… Courage also slays the dizzying death of abysses: and where would man not stand at abysses! Isn’t seeing itself—seeing abysses?
Courage is the best slayer: courage also slays compassion. But compassion is the deepest abyss: as deeply as man sees into life, he also sees into suffering…” — Of Face and Mystery – Also sprach Zarathustra
The Abyss and the Reckoning
Nietzsche teaches that it is not enough to endure reality or strip away false regrets. One must confront the abyss, not as a victim, but as a fighter:
“Who is this abyss to stare me in the eyes?”
False regret is a coward’s narcotic; the abyss demands engagement. To meet it fully is to break free from illusions and strike reality with the force of your own will. The bitter shock of truth is no longer something to avoid — it becomes a sparring partner. Every pain faced, every truth accepted, is a blow struck with strong fists against the void.
Regret transforms from narcotic into fuel for action, a teacher that forces courage, self-honesty, and creative defiance. The abyss no longer intimidates; it demands to be wrestled with, and in wrestling, we reclaim our strength.
Conclusion
False regret is not memory, nor truth — it is self-deception disguised as reflection. To recognize it is the first strike against illusion; to confront reality with open eyes is to reclaim agency. The sooner we taste its bitterness and meet the abyss head-on, the sooner we transform regret from poison into power, from passivity into defiance. In wrestling with reality, we do not merely survive — we rise stronger, clearer, and unbound.
Field Guide to Human Mental Traps
1. The Abyss of Fictional Regret
Humans invent regrets to soften the shock of reality. The mind tells stories of what could have been, hiding the true emptiness beneath. Like a drug, this fiction soothes for a moment but enslaves over time.
§1. “Regret is the drug with which we numb truth; the longer we sip its fiction, the weaker we grow against reality’s cure.”
2. The Comfort of Illusion
We prefer sweet poison to the bitter candy of truth. The more we indulge it, the less we recognize reality when it stares us in the face. Comfort is a velvet prison.
§2. “A soft lie may soothe the mind, but it starves the soul.”
3. The Habit of Rumination
The mind is a looping river of “what ifs” and “if onlys.” Repetition feels productive but achieves nothing.
§3. “Thought without purpose is a treadmill: it moves, but goes nowhere.”
4. The Fear of the Abyss
Humans dread the unknown, the void, the silent emptiness. Avoidance creates paralysis. Nietzsche teaches: stare into it, wrestle with it, strike it with your own fists.
§4. “Who is this abyss to stare me in the eyes? I will strike it first.”
5. The Monster of Past Identity
We define ourselves by who we were, rather than who we could become. Memory chains the present to the past, and identity becomes a prison.
§5. “You are not your yesterday; each step forward is a rebellion against its shadow.”
6. The Monster of Fear
Fear is the mind’s leash. It convinces us to avoid, to delay, to hide. Confronting fear awakens strength; evading it breeds weakness.
§6. “Every fear you feed becomes a monster; strike it, and you rise.”