A short story I wrote before - after reading it, I still feel that this one suits me best, so I moved it here.
No matter how brilliant your first love is, it will cast a shadow in your memory.
"For whom I am happy, for whom I grow old, for whom my heart is like a rock and my face is like grass... If everything is really so important, if everything can really be insignificant."
Seventeen years old, gardenias, wisterias, diaries, tears, long hair for whom, we are young, the innocent and unforgettable love and friendship in our youth...
Life is like a summer flower, blooming in loneliness.
My long fairy tale: "Youth Travel"
Intention: