I can always feel the love of my parents without any conditions.
It seems a bit hypocritical to say that they love their children, not me, the original me.
Putting aside the blood ties, maybe I am not someone they will like at all, or even someone they hate.
So even though they loved me, I still felt desolate inside.
I desperately hope that someone can come close to me, understand me, and choose me firmly.
This is the source of all my expectations for love.
Intention: Those fierce loves and passionate obsessions only grow in the soil of youth.