We Are Drifting Apart

When I see the street lights on the roadside, I will think of you. When I see the snowflakes falling, I will think of you. Even when I see a tree, I will think of you. But every time I see it, it is a kind of torture. I want to dig out this memory piece by piece with a knife, and I want to smash this heart to pieces with a hammer. Even if it is a duckweed without memory, what can I do? At least it will not be so painful. Although I am grateful for the extraordinary love you gave me in my ordinary life, I hate you even more for the empty joy you gave me later. Yes, now I eat, sleep, chat and laugh, but. . . . . . Since we can't have it, let's hope that in the thousands of days and nights to come, we will use up all our strength just to live, and have no extra energy to recall the past days. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.