They say that people cannot lack family, friendship and love in this world.
He doesn't understand.
Being raised by his parents, he knows family affection; being touched by casual details, he knows friendship. It's just that the former is born, and the latter is established half-heartedly. He didn't have much curiosity about things around him other than writing, nor did he specifically pursue the emotional ups and downs other than writing.
"Except for being a little cold, you are still a good friend."
In the past, he had naively thought that writing was everything to him and that it was important enough to override survival.
In the end, he discovered that "thinking" was just a ridiculous excuse to escape.
He was confused, not knowing whether to lose himself in society or himself.
The fish just appeared in front of him.
Nothing that happens inevitably will be ordinary.
What determines it is a very beautiful word - fate.
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Until now, I still ask this question: "What is love?" The teacher's definition in the "Thinking" course offered in the school is very clear but also very rigid. Just "between a man and a woman" is enough to make people confused. As a person who can turn all straight men who approach him into good gay friends, I can't understand it.
In fact, I don't understand what love is.
So, I wanted to find the answer while writing this article.