I calmly insist on using pale language to try my best to portray the enemy between ideal and reality.
Yes
And the indifference and hope that have been stored deep in the heart for a long time, determination and compromise
I was afraid that youth would step heavily on me and pull away, leaving me tightly hugging the painful body.
Ideal
I can't write the exquisite words I expect either.
The sharp writing style was eventually mediocre and indifferently sadly forgotten.
When I think of this, my heart aches like a knife, and I can't shed tears for a long time.