Flowers bloom and fall silently over the years, and when dreams are over, resentments are hard to calm down. Life is like a duckweed swinging from side to side, and the heart is unsettled when love reaches its end.
Flowers are not red in every possible way, and people are not good in a hundred days. In this life, you cannot always rely on dreams to satisfy yourself. Life is short. If you are like duckweed and allowed to be manipulated by others, you may still have resentment and dissatisfaction with yourself until your brain stops thinking.
Now that I think about it, it has been more than 10 years, but my ideals always arise in my heart inadvertently, knocking on my soul and affecting my thinking. Maybe it is just an impulse, maybe it is just a temporary inability to think about it. But I always feel that I would be sorry for myself if I don't give it a try.
So give yourself a name, let's call it the ideal of the poor. This essay is just to explain the origin of my name.