If I wasn't afraid, he would still be him.
I fell in love with you in the past, nostalgic for the bits and pieces of the past, and the clouds of hesitation in words.
She will wait for you, sleep among the noise of cicadas, and indulge in the midsummer.
Let go? Is it that the spirit of spring no longer clings to the faded color of the water, or that the eyes are disdainful of the peace of loss?
She said that letting go means giving up a lot of choices just to cover up a lie that only covers oneself. She is helpless to find the poison of being deceived by being deceived.
In the end, the poignancy was voluntarily extinguished from the uneasiness, and the remaining wings just sighed, pretending to be nostalgic and went to another spring feast.
In the final analysis, flower pavilions, butterfly abandonment, and death do not prove anything.
Die could choose to reunite with the fallen Chun, but he did not.
After sucking the color of honey, wherever you go, you will see decadence.
In the end, the mountain birds did not want to dance with the sea breeze, and the fish avoided being exposed to the sky.
The ocean current changes its course, and the difference between cold and warm becomes distinct.
But in your thousands of pasts, every moment, the trajectory of you and him is still going on in the four dimensions. I want to make up for you some endings that should be imperfect. You can only thank, let go, and no longer entangle.
Because I don't want to turn my love into obsession.
The former self was exiled by him and came to find the past you. The sequel is flowing in the blood, deafening and silent.
If this is the case, I hope you will not disturb them. They will metabolize, wither and flourish. The atoms will not be annihilated, but they will penetrate into the bones and blood.
No matter how much you deceive yourself, the sound will be silent for a long time, and the embankment will burst in your dream.
Intention: If I am not afraid, he will still be him
