The so-called love is probably like a firework, extremely gorgeous, it shakes down in an instant, shatters into pieces, leaving only embers, and even the remaining warmth is lost from the ashes, never to be rekindled. Standing on the other side of the river and watching the fireworks, I felt immersed in it. I felt the joy when it was in full bloom and the loneliness after it withered. But in the end, it had nothing to do with me and it didn't hurt my skin or bones. The love of friends is the same to me. There is no love in my life. Standing on the other side and watching the fireworks is the closest distance to love that I can endure, a safer distance.