Too long of loneliness told me that they are all fake, only I am real; stability is fake, change is real; persistence is fake, but letting go is real.
Maturity, maturity is a kind of bright but not dazzling brilliance, a kind of round but not greasy sound, a kind of calmness that no longer needs to observe the appearance of others, an atmosphere that finally stops complaining to the surroundings, a smile that ignores the noise, an indifference that washes away extremes, a kind of thickness that does not need to be announced, and a kind of height that is not steep.
I am looking for myself in the confusion. But, who am I? Who am I? The people around me were like running water, disappearing one by one without my noticing. I heard myself sighing, and I saw my eyes silent in the darkness, I don't know how...