WQNMLGB

[Updates irregularly, written during bouts of insomnia, definitely not abandoned]

At some point, Ye Ye developed the habit of caressing her chest, as if something there were constantly tormenting her. Touching her chest was an ordinary gesture, except Ye Ye's fingers were slender and pale, and people simply couldn't look away.

Some guessed there was a tattoo there, a memorial to the person Ye Ye had once loved most. Others thought it was a scar. The wound had healed, but the memory of the flesh being torn open had left an indelible mark on Ye Ye's heart.

Finally, one day, someone asked Ye Ye why she so often touched her chest. Startled, Ye Ye moved her hands away, and everyone noticed that the skin in the spot she always caressed was smooth and pale. There was no obvious mark, no tattoo, not even a mole.

So what exactly was Ye Ye touching all day long?

Love in youth is fierce and overwhelming. You never turn back until you've been battered and broken. After the best years have passed, are all these wounds a testament to my refusal to give up, or the inevitable result of my overestimating myself?

W Q N M L G B

Forgetting still leaves a scar.