Sometimes caring is expressed in a way that hurts each other; sometimes what I want to say is rehearsed countless times in my heart and mind, and finally gets stuck in my mouth and becomes silent; sometimes I am too timid to open my heart and love.
When we were young and young, even if love was scarred all over our bodies, we would wipe away our tears and continue to love. Even if it is a love that ends in vain, we would still chase it; now we are gradually smoothed by reality and age, and we are timid. We dare not love wildly, love easily, and are afraid of getting hurt. Love becomes cautious, afraid of being broken. Sometimes I become sensitive to small things.
Conception: