It's funny, but I don't even remember writing the last two blogs. It's now near the end of May and I haven't a clue where April went. March can go f--k itself. And it did. Certain people that shall remain nameless can also go f--k themselves. I think they're in that process.
Do I wish to live in the past? I could, if I wish to wallow in it with bad memories. I could, if I wish to cherish all the damn good.
There are more important things than his return/non-return, give-me-almost-nothing in return come back. (Which, really, who are we kidding, comeback it is not....) We both know what happened, how maybe some events changed things. My back and forth of "should I have gone to Whistler?" lingers but I don't like regrets. It's not because of me, his challenges and flaws. I won't regret us, I won't regret anything and everything I was with him and to him. As my dad just reminded me and as Frank Sinatra reminded him recently, "Regrets, I've had a few, but too few to mention."
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