Take that Jump

I remember this one time when my family and I went to a waterfall place. It was a beautiful place. There were other people there so it was kind of crowded. There was also this big rock by the river. Some were standing on it, waiting for there turn to jump into the water. I saw this boy jumped to the water without any hesitation. Then he went for the rock again.

I, on the other hand, was too scared to try (Need I say that some were younger than me?). But I found myself standing on it. I guess I was curious enough to try but I stayed there for a long time. I couldn't jump. I just stood there staring at the water thinking of a million things that could go wrong. I mean, what if the water was not deep enough and I got hurt? What if I drown? So many "What if?" ran in my mind. I was held up by fear. Anyway, I stood there for a long time. People were jumping and coming back for more while I just stood there.

I finally gathered the courage to do it. I moved to the edge, took a deep breath, and then took that jump. I let out a small scream and shut my eyes tight. I felt great. I finally did it. I conquered my fear. And all the worries were for nothing. I wanted to do it again. But when I resurfaced, I heard my parents calling it was time to go. When I knew I had to go, I felt confused. Should I be happy that I managed to conquer it? That I was able to overcome something like that? Or should I feel regret? Regret because it took me so long to just do it. Had I just taken that jump without any worrying, would I be doing it several times over by then?