Many times, many people, many moments, many possibilities, many memories, many regrets, many things, many pasts, when you think of them in the future, you will always sigh inadvertently, or just sigh inertly, thinking silently, if I could...
If so, there is no possibility of going back.
All time is abandoned on the other side of the river. When you cross the river, how can you hope that the flowers on the other side will bloom for you, and how can you forget that other people's time will stay for you.
All possibilities have been cut off with your own hands, and your hands are bloody, which is the noise of your memories.
The years were wasted, resulting in a body of pain and a lifetime of loneliness. Finally, I could leave with a smile.