I once liked someone so sincerely and stubbornly. He was like the moon hanging still in the sky in winter. He was so close that I couldn't touch it, but it illuminated the obscure long nights when I was studying hard at my desk. After writing and writing countless times, Zhang Zhang's essays couldn't describe his emotions over the years, so he decided to tell this story from a third perspective. I would like to dedicate this article to my former self.
Purpose: To commemorate those who knew they were unable to do so in youth