Three years, one thousand and ninety-five days. I thought everything had time, and that three years passed as slowly as two consecutive math classes. But time is never forgiving. I like these more than a thousand days faster than a rare physical education class.
Pure youthful pain literature commemorates the thousand days I died without any disease. Also forgive me for writing these thousand days into a novel, at least let me be my own heroine.
Intention: Study hard and make progress every day