Are others passers-by in our lives, or are we accompanying them on a journey in their lives?
Just like we can't figure out whether a zebra is white with black stripes or black with white stripes
But no matter what, the journey with someone will never be lonely, even if there is a lot of helplessness, regret and pain.
It wasn't until I stood there that I suddenly realized that life is always more exciting, deeper and crueler than novels.
The world is always blurry, so will our love also be blurry?
Perhaps it is just like that sentence: The true meaning of life does not need to be fully understood, and the best perfection is to have no ideas!
A short story about the life of a passing guest may not be considered a complete love novel.
Perhaps it can only be regarded as recording the emotional trajectory of the protagonist's life.
Well, please understand my attribute classification.
Because I really feel fuzzy, so fuzzy that I feel confused.
In the present ongoing tense where we are still confused, which journey should we cherish, and which passerby should we miss?
Just like the name of the protagonist, what is better - what is better?
We try to find happiness...