I have always firmly believed that those who can write touching and tear-jerking stories will always have a sad heart, no matter whether they are smiling, calm or proud when exposed to others.
When we are young, love is just a simple look between our eyes. It is always in our consciousness, and it is a simple matter of course. At that time, we would not have expected that growth is not as long as we imagined. In one or two years, we can become completely different. When we stand in front of the mirror, we will ask ourselves in a daze: Is this still me? His face is the same as before, but his eyes are no longer as clear as water. Sadness always flashes in moments when others don't notice. Those who once thought they would hold hands for a lifetime, naturally got lost in the crowd, no longer obsessed, and no longer pursued who was not insisting. Gradually, we discovered that in this world, no one is inseparable from anyone, and there is always another pair of hands that can warm us. Although it is no longer so sweet and heart-warming, who says that stability and plainness are not a different kind of happiness? Maybe, what we want is not that much, as long as we know that in the crowded flow of people, there will always be someone who holds your hand firmly, and can look at each other and smile with you in the festive fireworks. Let us bury that sad city and live a plain and happy life. . . . . . .