I have always been a person who likes to listen to stories, listen to other people's stories, and write other people's stories. I am just a storyteller, and some people say that storytellers are lonely people, because they always tell other people's stories, but forget their own stories; or they are always happy or sad about other people's stories, but forget how to face their own stories. Perhaps it is true that after seeing so many other people's joys and sorrows, one may feel that one's own story is not worth mentioning. When I read Jiang Xun's "Six Lectures on Loneliness", I thought I understood what loneliness is, but I still don't understand it now. I still feel sorry for those who came together and then became separated, and I still feel sad for those who "should" be together but are not. What is the chance that this huge group of people, as numerous as stars, will allow us to reunite with someone we once separated from? And who can guarantee that that person will also remember you so deeply? Therefore, I like to look at a memory with a farewell attitude, because I know that we will eventually be separated. In the end, I was left alone, returning to my own flickering reality. That's it, these stories are destined to be a fruitless parting. I put the chair down, hid my thoughts, stared at the white background of the computer, and typed out paragraphs of text that had no genre, no style, no style, and no logic.