Injured to 2

My world is too noisy. I think I have never learned to listen quietly. In fact, the person who is most afraid of being forgotten is me. I am weak because I hold on to memories. The memories are not that precious, it's just that I can't get through it. Those pictures with me in them are longing for a place to be placed. And my renegotiation is just to expose it to the sunshine in the most peripheral corner of your heart. Too much nostalgia is just my wishful thinking and I care too much. I am like a gardener, burying the seeds of each memory, sprouting, blooming, withering, and reborn. I think pain is the best thing to remember, so I don't hesitate to rub salt into the wound. The passage of time witnessed the more severe pain, and also doubled the healing process of the wound. Everyone may suffer and heal in this way. In the turbulent sea of ​​people, I am just a lonely patient. Fall in love with loneliness and be burned by loneliness. In the time to come, I will learn to listen quietly. Actually, I don't know much about you. Can't take that step. I only wish to give you quiet love, that may be the best gift. And it, perhaps, is hurt to 2.