The tip of the pen has written about my entire youth, but it has not written about the difficult hurdle in my heart.
--You. Feng
I don't know how long this secret love has lasted, I don't know how many springs, summers, autumns, and winters have passed, I don't know if he has me in his heart...
Maybe it's my own passion. I know what the result will be, but I still can't help it. No one knows what I'm doing, not even me...
I don't know how long I've liked him, I don't know when I started, and I don't know if I've let him go. He's so ridiculous, so narcissistic, so ridiculous, so sad, and so wishful thinking. I feel ridiculous just thinking about it.
Where is he? What attracted me to him?
In the end, the result is not the same - love cannot be achieved
When they finally separated, I was too embarrassed to say "I like you".
What a coward, what a pity, regret, and reluctance.
Maybe youth is like this, full of regrets and reluctance.
Intention: slightly