I don't know who once told me that youth is meant to be squandered.
I don't know who once told me that we will eventually separate.
This is a season of separation, and the symbolic heat announces the end of our three years of high school.
This is the season of crying, which can be seen from the girls who keep wiping their eyes with red eyes.
We squander our youth, but we grow up in it. It seems to be a trial, in order to let us embark on a more cruel reality of life.
What I got in return for forcing a smile was a smile from you. You used your smile to tell me - don't be afraid.
Did you know?
I don't know why, I don't want to say goodbye to you.