I used to think that friendship was very simple, but I was very scheming and felt that I was not worthy of such a precious friendship. I felt that all friendships should be single-choice questions instead of multiple-choice questions.
However, no matter how many people have trampled on my sincerity, it may not be that serious. At least, I no longer trust anyone.
When I told what happened to me as a joke, my pretense of relaxed relief could not hide my inner torment. I persistently longed for them to still miss me, and persistently fantasized about how great it would be if all this had never happened.
However, I am probably the only one trapped in here. Everyone is moving forward, but I am the only one who is empty and miserable.
I write these out and put them down after I finish them. I don't read them after I finish them. Once I finish them, I'll be fine.
(It's all true, and it's not hypocritical. Whoever cares about it will collapse. The first two chapters are rough outlines. They are from the diary. The explanation is not very clear and a bit confusing, so you can skip it.)
Vomiting one's own bitterness releases depression, and poor writing skills lead to bad luck.
Determination: Those who abandon me will not be able to retain yesterday's day. Those who disturb my mind will cause me many worries today