I cleaned my closet this afternoon and saw this poem given to me by a very special person. It seems like it was last summer... a summer morning with the bright sun and various smiles on faces. Everything was just like yesterday. 
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I guess it's inevitable to have regrets. Letting her go seems to be one of the awful mistakes I have made. Memories are memories, you can have them as long as you'd like, but bear in mind that no matter how long you hold on, there will come a time when the only option left is to let go.
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