After a long, long time, I realized that it was possible to miss someone and cry bitterly.
My mother told me that there are two most important things for a person. Never miss it: the last bus home and a person who loves you deeply. However, I missed both.
On the road of infinitely spreading life, recalling that youth, I seemed to see the original self, simple and beautiful, ignoring the setbacks and ups and downs in the middle. I stretched out my hand to grab it, but I couldn't touch it.
My name is Seventeen, and I am seventeen this year. I am farsighted and cannot see the happiness near, but I can clearly see the pain in the distance.