It hurts so much, but I can go on.
Every sigh makes me remember.
Remember what I don't have, what I've lost.
I wish and wish, but I know wishing is just a dream while you're awake.
I think maybe all this is just a prep for death.
Some go on without regrets, more regret that they have to go on.
I go on regretting.
I can't go back, nor do I want to stay as I am.
Maybe something will come around, or into my life,
    making those regrets no more, making everything okay.
Believing if it hadn't been it wouldn't have been.
But I'll never know unless I go on.

Presto