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I guess what I regret the most about this, about us, is that it never happened. We never happened.

Maybe I should have told you what you meant to me; that could have made you stay. Maybe I should have told you the truth that day in the rain; I should have told you how much I liked you, and even though you probably already knew it, it could have meant something at that moment.

Things probably would be different now if I would have been brave enough; we would be something now, don't you think so? Maybe you would not have left the way you did, and I would not be crying because of the things I never said; the magic of rain could have done some kind of miracle in us, or maybe not. I guess we will never know what could have happened. We will never know what we could have been.

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