When I was young, I was lost in the fog and knew nothing of the world around me. Only after the fog lifted and I saw the wreckage everywhere did I finally wake up to the truth.
When I was young, I fell in love with a shooting star. The brilliance it burst into as it streaked across the night sky left an indelible mark on my young heart, and I spent a long time chasing it. I thought I could catch up, but no matter how hard I ran, the distance between us only grew, until at last it vanished from sight.
Later, I fell in love with the moon. It hung high in the sky, lighting the road in the deep of night. The moon didn't need me to chase after it desperately; I only had to look up to see it, so I began to gaze at the moon. Just when I thought it would stay in the sky forever, dawn came, and the moon was gone.
In an instant, I woke from my dream and turned to see the roses behind me, withered and dying on the ground. I had missed the roses' season of bloom while chasing the shooting star and gazing at the moon. In the end, the shooting star receded from sight, the moon disappeared at daybreak, and the roses withered behind me. My life was a complete failure.
When we're young, we're always drawn to things that sparkle, only to end up with nothing. If I hadn't chased that shooting star from the start, if I hadn't gazed up at the moon, and had instead devoted myself to the roses behind me, perhaps I wouldn't have ended up such a complete failure.
