No longer shed tears over a song; no longer pout because of carefully guarded self-esteem.
When walking alone at night, there is no need to turn on the lights in the living room, kitchen and bedroom when taking a shower.
Even without an alarm clock, you can get dressed and open the window when the time comes.
I no longer use strawberry-flavored toothpaste, no mugwort-flavored soap when washing my face, and the paintings on my nails are all in pieces.
Randomly pull out a pair of retro high heels from the shoe rack and stuff them into a pair of thinly covered feet.
Sit down with a cup of black coffee and two slices of warm bread.
Putting on a pair of headphones, there was a faint hiss followed by a burst of laughter, and there were men and women accompanying the ballads. The song goes: The clouds are not clouds, the wind is drunk by the wind.
Time smiles dumbly.