I've never done anything consistently. When I was young, I loved writing and wanted to be a novelist, and finally became a spectator; when I was young, I wanted to study hard and get into a good university, but finally became addicted to the hypocrisy of human nature and became a bastard who tells lies. I met someone alone in middle school. I thought I would never leave him in this life, so I went against the grain and did all the absurd things. Until now, he has soberly withdrawn, and I feel desolate. I hated myself for being pretentious, selfish, lazy and irresponsible, which made him sensitive, suspicious and unfortunate, so from then on I made wishes for him when I saw the moon, and sang for him when I saw the stars. I naively hoped that he would be happy, and I carried the rest.
Intention: To bring an end to my five years, and forget about him after I finish writing.