I have known her for seven years, and among these seven years, I have lived in a state of life worse than death for four of the seven years. How deep can the friendship of youth, the so-called love of youth be, how profound can it be, and how unforgettable can it be? It is not so much a memory as it is a confession, a confession of the mistakes made when I was young, and a confession of the irreparable love. How many more seven years will it take for me to get out of this relationship that is not a love? How many more seven years will it take for me to stop spending my life looking for her substitutes one after another? How many more seven years will it take for me to face this relationship squarely.