But that is all in the past, and now I am leaning decadently by the bar, and the coffee has become the cheapest. I know that her final ending is understandable. She is like the most colorful piece of the dream I weaved. When I woke up from the dream, I found that the gorgeous brocade in the dream had been torn, and there was only a big hole left that could not be filled. I wanted to reach out and grab the remaining corner, but found that the corner turned into colorful feathers and gradually dispersed.
She had been pursuing what she thought was a distant place, forgetting that it was reality.
She was willing to degenerate. Instead of studying, she smoked and drank, but I was still with her. She was kind to others, but cruel to herself. Later I learned that she had mania and could not control herself at all. It was normal to harm herself.
I said, you are fine.