Maybe there should always be something extremely beautiful in a person's youth that he doesn't want to forget. Those people, those things, just stop quietly in the past, thrown into the youthful time that cannot be returned, unable to approach, and never far away. Time is like a huge wheel, constantly turning, cruelly crushing our passing years, ruthlessly trampling them, and finally turning them into fragments and gathering dust in the distant past. But without those youthful, entangled, hopeful, helpless, and whirling times, I would rather choose to forget them.
Intention: I want to become a better person for you