When I was twenty-five years old, I had seven piercings in my left ear bone and donated blood for the third time in my life. This year, I pestered the person I had liked for twelve years for a month;
When I was twenty-five years old, I smoked, talked dirty, and brought a stray cat home. This year, the tenth letter I wrote was returned by that person;
When I was twenty-five years old, I had a very messy relationship. I took pictures of all the beautiful things I saw and made a beautiful photo wall. This year, that person got married to someone he loved very much.
Is it true that the love of all people in the rebellious period can only be summed up in one sentence - the person I love always doesn't love me, and by the way, I pray that the person he loves doesn't love him either, and then I can live my whole life with peace of mind at the age of twenty-five.
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