He is my only childhood friend, and I always miss his warm smile. He is also my best brother, so good that he threw his diary in my drawer. He has been gone for a long time.
It is said that a person who has been missing for four years should be considered dead. Only today did I gradually realize and finally begin to accept that he may never come back. Finally, when the night was quiet and I missed him, I secretly dug through his belongings.
The so-called relics are just two diaries. The earlier one was a very ordinary college-customized notebook. Even the first few pages were a messy calculation draft. It seemed that he had begun to write paragraphs on it, just casually recording the crazy mood that had no place to release. He did not want the unpredictable fate to make him finally write it into a thick diary. In contrast, the second book, which was exquisite and simple with a brown leather cover, was a carefully selected carrier. It was as if he knew from the beginning that it would be his lifelong treasure. I just don't know if he thought at the time that he would eventually throw it to me to treasure.
At least I want to leave you some evidence of my life, for you, and for those who have cried with you, laughed, loved, hated, looked forward to, been helpless, or even moved forward, and now most of them no longer know where the end of the world is - I think like this. I hope to tell more gentle-hearted people about this gorgeous youth and pure love. I hope that people who are lucky enough to read it will be able to boldly break through, love sincerely, and feel the beauty buried everywhere in this world. Don't worry about gains and losses. It is never the endings that make us who we are, but the precious and unique life processes we have experienced.
I would like to write this book to commemorate my dearest you and our long gone youth.
Concept: Youth is short, passionate but weak, like a mayfly in a hurry, living and dying.
