White Mud

Our relationship is like mud, it's a mess and it's hard to explain. But I think it's not sludge, it should be white mud. Pure white, pollution-free mud. I began to feel happy for the stories she told, and to miss the deceased person. I would feel incredibly sad, even more so than she would. But later, I started to feel a little jealous and resentful, and I still had countless sorrows. I want to escape but I can't. But I still feel that fate made me fall in love with her by mistake, which is also the most correct thing.