I opened the letterhead and the familiar handwriting slowly unfolded. Line by line, stroke by stroke, they form a neat queue. Wherever the strokes of the pen fall back, there is a stubbornness that can be seen at a glance.
He said: "Everyone has a small world. In this world, we miss someone, please someone, hope for someone, bless someone, cherish someone, accompany someone... It's just that if this person is alone, if there are many people, the small world becomes crowded. Our hearts can't accommodate it, and our minds can't support it. One day, we will be tired of these stumbling thoughts, crushing the feelings that should be frank.
Many days I wonder, isn't love just about me loving you and you loving me? After getting to know you, I realized that some love, even speaking out, is a kind of hurt.
If you don't want to be hurt, you can only escape.
But I want you to know that even though I have 10 million expectations and helplessness, you are the only one who allows me to be so stubborn that if you don't come, I won't leave... It's just that there is such a thing as fate in the world, and before we get to the end, we are all exhausted by it, and we don't have the slightest courage to struggle..."
My tears fell without support as I read the last sentence, blurring my vision and smearing the whole world.