Do you know what it feels like to let go? It's when you stand in front of a pile of ashes, with the wind blowing across your face, and you know it's your home, but you can't go back. The so-called front edge is just that I like you so much. The so-called next life is just an excuse for some deserters who were injured in love. So next time, can you put aside all your frivolous pride and love me till you go crazy? However, love supported by madness does not have any reason as a support. It is just a piece of loose sand, flying wherever the wind blows, to the end of the world, nothing more than that. It's nothing if you can't have it, and it's the most desolate thing if you can't encounter it.