We met, got acquainted, and got to know each other. We spent four years together; we laughed, cried, and screamed together; we played in the streets and alleys, and we talked in the crowded subway; I walked through the hesitation with you, and you also walked with me through the confusion; the four years passed in a blink of an eye, but in the end, no one could escape the end of the song and the people dispersed. There is no one right or wrong in the story of youth. It is accidental or perhaps inevitable.
I would like to write this document to those of us who are still young:
This is a story that has nothing to do with love. At that age when we still don't understand what love is, there is always someone who walks with you and gives each other the best memories.