I'm not gonna lie and say it doesn't bother me or that I don't sometimes wish it had happened another way
I'm not gonna sit here and say that from time-to-time I don't still wonder what you're doing, where you are or why you picked her instead of me
I'm not gonna pout or mope or even shed a single tear
I'm not gonna look back in anger or even with a little spite, and I'm not gonna relish, I'm not gonna savor
I'm not gonna wonder [anymore] about what could should or would have been; I'm not gonna worry and I'm not gonna fear, or hope or wish or even daydream...
I'm not. I'm really not. I'm moving forward and moving on and on and on and while it still hurts a tiny little bit in a very distant unfamiliar way, I'm not. I'm really really not.
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