Sometimes, I look for her in the sky, as if I believe she must exist in a certain corner. The sun is very dazzling, so every time I can't find the direction, I feel dizzy. It feels like I am isolated from the world. I seem to be lively and lonely.
There is a string of memory that, when touched, is the sound of the end of the world.
There is always too much unhappiness in this world. When you are happy, it feels like an illusion. I am used to the angle of looking up, and the sun shines right through the hair on my forehead. It seems that I want to avoid it and not be noticed, but it also seems that I want to expose it to the sun, but I am used to the darkness. I found that children who are accustomed to darkness are always easily moved by the sunshine. Yearning for a simple life, but accustomed to dramatic plots, this is how tragedies are often made. I like sad words, maybe I like the feeling that someone is sadder than me.
In the past, what was. What comes out of the dusty sheet of music is still the melody. However, I always don't understand where the pain in recalling it comes from. It didn't seem to come from the body. The feeling was a bit detached, outside the mind, uncontrollable and undistractable. I picked up the pen but didn't know how to start. It seems that describing that mood in words will dilute the feeling. It was really hard to breathe, like being immersed in sea water but still conscious. Sometimes I think, I want to be happier and more optimistic, and life must go on. But when I am alone, when my mood is turbulent, when I pass by those familiar street corners, when I see the familiar happiness in the eyes of other lovers, I know that I am lonely. But I will no longer look back again and again, as I did before, and care for the snuggle that has lost its warmth again and again. I tell myself that loss is painful. If I don't want to suffer again, I will lose it completely at once.
Some things seem to follow me like a shadow, and no matter how I try to break away, it won't help. Only then did I realize that when someone makes a mistake, it's not that others can't forgive him, but that he himself can't forgive himself. On the other hand, in love, no one seems to think that they are wrong. There is always a reason to say that they are good to each other. Even if they make a mistake, they will forgive themselves before the other person does. So, I like the feeling of blood being thicker than water.