He walked into the depths of the cold spring, picked up a long knife, and stabbed it in, bruising the old wounds. New wounds overlap old wounds, growing unevenly on the whole body. I am indifferent and think I will forget it. As long as I have a little regret, it will grow like crazy. The remnants of the new life even cover up the old scars, which I thought would be forgotten, but grow back bit by bit, even becoming clearer, more unforgettable.
Forget it!
Can't forget it!
Then just settle down, there is no need to look back.
Intention: Go forward and don't look back.