When I was 22 years old, or before I met her, I didn't believe that I would meet someone I love, even though I fell in love twice, once with a boy and once with a girl. I originally planned to live according to my parents' wishes, find a boy who I liked to talk to and like me, get married, tell a lie that most people would tell at the wedding, have a child, work hard for the child in middle age, do something I wanted to do when I was young but failed to do it when I got older, and then recall my mediocre life in the hospital bed. Until that day, she told me she loved me