Someone said it. I like memories and often live in them, unable to extricate myself. .
But I feel like I'm not that kind of person. . I'm not the kind of person who relies on memories to sustain my current days. . But later I understood. It turns out that I was the one who was deceiving myself all along. . I am afraid of the horror and darkness of real society. I'm afraid of getting hurt. . Every time I get hurt, I always try to escape. Don't dare to face it. I just want to be happy. . Maybe I'm too naive. . When facing others, I have become accustomed to using clowning methods to make others happy. They see me happy. . But it's not time to be alone. Always in a daze. Thinking about something from the past. . I was very sad and wanted to cry. Tears were rolling in my eyes and I couldn't flow them out. .
My presence always makes others sad. Painful times. . Be there and listen to their pain. . Share their sorrow. . But who will listen to my pain and sadness? ? . . . . .