I thought love was an accumulation of fate from past lives,
I thought it was the distance indentation of different trajectories,
I thought it was about being separated from the body and free from the world.
It's just that the specific space makes people gradually lose their struggle.
Crying is really useless. In his eyes, am I just dust or a decoration?
My heart is getting closer and closer to fragments, and I ask myself over and over again if it is worth keeping those who refuse to let me go, abandoning family ties and friendships.
He is too cold. It was so cold that it hurt my heart, so cold that it hurt my dignity.
Each other's culture cannot be ignored, and I realized it while walking around.
I'm sorry, I don't love you anymore. The agreed contract has no value.
I know it hurts, and there is nothing I can't let go of. I at least fought hard.
Maybe it was the fragrance of roses that allowed me to taste the taste of love, let go of my defenses, and give you the opportunity to hurt me. Maybe my disguise was not perfect enough, allowing you to easily see the purity of love. I am still here and still obsessed with you, but you have decided to fly away, and I am in love with you. Even if you are gone, at least there will be memories. Love will hurt myself in the end. No matter how beautiful the memories are, they are just cold tears.