If my leaving can keep you from forgetting me - I choose to let you remember me.
I'm a big asshole, right?
Oh, I've never been involved.
What if there was no her? If there was no her, would anything change?
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I remember when I used to read Wang Wei's poem "When the beauty of April in the world is gone, the peach blossoms in the mountain temple are beginning to bloom", I thought this poem was too ordinary and boring. But the longer time passes, the more this sentence becomes like fermented old wine. Every time I taste it, the feeling of endless aftertaste and endless emotion becomes stronger. A peach tree blooming late in late spring often appears in front of my eyes, splendid in its own way in the deep forest.