I don’t know what hurts more
The fact that I will never meet Margie, or the fact that he will never give 2 shits about me. I didn’t have a helping hand. I didn’t have someone to lean on. I was alone. While he was off galavanting around having fun, I was at home wishing for Margie to be there. And he didn’t think twice about her. He doesn’t think of her everyday. He doesn’t miss her everyday. He doesn’t live in regret.