Roses don't need to grow tall, the people who love you will bend down.
When I was nineteen, I met him in a relationship that ended badly.
He said that I was too kind to people, and he smiled and asked me to help him introduce a partner. However, a month after I broke up with my ex, he quietly held my hand.
We are separated by a distance of five years, two thousand kilometers of mountains and seas, and the responsibilities and rules brought by his military uniform.
During the evening study call in the senior year of high school, the eight-minute phone call, and the short video call on Sunday, he gave me all the tenderness he could give me, making me think that we could really survive the long distance, survive the waiting, and survive until we get married.
I have seen the way he loves me and the way he looks at me, so I know better than anyone else that he doesn't love me anymore.
From the first time you yelled at me, the first time you lied to me, the first time you were cold-blooded, the first time you helped an outsider speak up when I was wronged, to the last sentence, "It's none of my business if you can't sleep," I have accumulated enough disappointment for 639 days.
I humbled myself to stay, and I also turned around and pulled away. When he finally panicked and turned around crying, I realized that I no longer loved him.
It turns out that love is never about tiptoeing, nor is it about humble flattery, nor is it about unilateral apology and change.
When I no longer circled around him and his eyes were no longer full of eyes, he bent over and turned back, reluctant to let me leave.
It's just a pity that my flowering period has already passed halfway, and the enthusiasm is no longer the same as before.
I learned to love, I learned to let go, and I also learned to love myself first.
Purpose: Based on real military love experiences, it tells the story of a girl's growth from humble duty to sobriety and self-healing, and teaches readers that loving yourself is a lifelong issue.
