That was me twelve years ago, so young and high-spirited. The future is as unpredictable and beautiful as the ever-changing clouds in the sky.
And that person was right next to him, lying on the ground lazily looking at the sky, occasionally complaining impatiently, as if he would never leave for the rest of his life.
It is true that he has not left. Those meaningless scenes from his youth are firmly stationed in his heart, and he never dares to think of them, and he never dares to forget them.
He was afraid that he would only remember it, but that person would forget it.