It was a time when I was sixteen or seventeen years old. I was sad because of a decline in test scores, but I could be happy all day long because of a piece of chocolate given by a good friend. I suddenly wonder why my parents can't understand my thoughts, but when they encounter problems, they are the first to hug my mother and cry, asking for my father's help. There is also the boy who I can't say I like but always pays attention to. I wonder if I can attract his attention if I am better. I think this is who we were at that time, about family affection, friendship, and perhaps ignorant love.
(Actually, it's just my resentment about being depressed at work, not time travel, not time travel, not time travel!!!)
Did I say my writing was that bad? Please support me