Have you ever had a period of time when you were faced with heavy studies, an uncertain future, little thoughts and emotions, and the buds of first love seeming to open and close? Guarding the last hurdle, carefully testing the ambiguity, even separation can only be regarded as without beginning or end. It's not considered hard work, but it's a dull pain, and it's like a strand of thread. I can't figure out what's right or wrong, and I can't find the source and way out. Is it considered love? Even I don't know, I just keep drinking that drink and like to see that color, it's like an addiction and it has become a habit.