Maybe I don't love anyone, I just like whoever is with me. Maybe I just don't love myself enough, so I always go down the wrong path.
There is actually no point in persisting, but I feel unwilling to do so. Apart from that, I am still unwilling to give in.
People without a heart can't breathe. In other words, they all have hearts, but it's a pity that they only have one, which can't save my life.
The quickest way to kill a butterfly is to praise its beauty.
The story has some deleted and adapted parts
I am confusing.
Intention: The willows are dark and the flowers are bright