I never wasted my youth. But what about me? I spent most of mine trying to understand one thing: love. I've been trying to figure it out ever since.
My heart is slow to understand. Whenever love appeared, I never knew where it came from. I was lost and confused, and often only realized what I'd missed after it was too late...
But my youth was simple, too, and full of passion. Someone became my fleeting yet enduring white moonlight from the very beginning, claiming a place in my world. Someone else came along later and surpassed them, becoming a love that began in beauty and ended in sorrow, a cinnabar mole I still haven't entirely erased.
People came into my world, and naturally, I entered many others. I became someone else's white moonlight, or their cinnabar mole, or perhaps... someone they would never see again in this lifetime.
