At the Trocadero, in Philadelphia, I told a girl named Sam that she was pretty.
I am never going to see her again.
Does the fact that 99% of the people we come across in our life are never again seen, ever, bother anyone else but me?
It had me depressed all the way though Jersey, which is depressing enough in it's own smelly right.
I am never going to see her again.
Does the fact that 99% of the people we come across in our life are never again seen, ever, bother anyone else but me?
It had me depressed all the way though Jersey, which is depressing enough in it's own smelly right.
Is the said girl in your tragic but beautiful story the one you danced with?
And yes, I've met a few people before that I knew I was never going to see again and it still bothers me even to this day to think about. What was she like?