Did you know? The roses are beautiful.
But often the most beautiful, most beloved roses have thorns.
Maybe you haven't even touched the rose itself, you will touch its thorns first.
Those thorns dig deep into your fingers, into your veins.
You will forget to breathe and will be miserable.
You may not know that that rose is also deeply in love with you.
But whether it wants it or not, the thorns it was born with will still hurt you.
Because this has become the meaning of its existence.
To approach you, to love you, to stab you, and to destroy you.
——He climbed up with difficulty and faced the world.
Another world.
He complained angrily about a world that was miserable to him, a world that was constantly changing.
This is a dream.
Different things are involved. His dream.
Very, very clear, his dream.
There are bloody ruins and human bodies scattered with flesh and blood; there is a messy big bed, covered with disgusting and ambiguous liquid; there is a romantic and beautiful sea of flowers, but the blood-red sky means more than that.
He was tortured to the point of going crazy and wanted to abandon such a cowardly self.
Together with the pair of golden eyes that repeatedly touched his heart and appeared frequently in his dreams.
But he would never have thought of it,
It hasn't really started yet.