If Time Travels Six Years

"I love you until I grow old." This is what you once wrote for me. But I changed it arbitrarily and said, I will love you until I grow old, die, and be reborn. We keep each other warm during the cold winter months. The six-year age difference and the popular saying of "six clashes" ultimately made this love that promised the next life deeply missed. I wrote a blue diary for you. Blue cover, blue paper. A certain day of a certain month will be sunny, a certain day of a certain month will be cloudy, and a certain day of a certain month will wait for you until dawn. On a rainy morning in a certain month, the expression on your face holding an umbrella for me. I have sat in front of the window on countless rainy days. White tea, pure joy, nothing else. There is only a diary, a pen, and you in my mind. My overwhelming love for you doesn't have too many words, it's always very quiet. That 86-day love was shallow and weak, but it was so hot in my heart. Like a red lotus blooming in flames. But my gentle and considerate treatment of you is as delicate as a tiger sniffing a rose. Most of our communication is through text, and the rare phone calls and meetings often make me uneasy. The six-year age difference has made me work hard to become a caring woman. I have read all your words, listened to all your favorite songs, tasted the food you exclaimed was delicious, and even searched for news about you over and over again, just because I wanted to make up for the time I was late in your youth. Old age makes me forgetful, but I never forget my lovesickness. Sometimes people are like this. Even though they know it is a bitter pill, they will still be greedy for those little tenderness at that moment and don't want to escape. The two people went from strangers to acquaintances to being close to each other lying on the same bed, and finally became strangers again, and finally they were deeply in love. This is a love affair in secular life. What is cruel is not the depth of love, but the lack of "matching" love. In love and in reality, neither person is right. Just because of the six-year time difference, it brought too many practical problems. Family, life and exchange of ideas. You were born before I was born, but I was born before you were old. You hate that I was born late, and I hate that you were born early. The repeated love entanglements, the thin sweetness, the brief encounter and the weak warmth, the bitter and miserable struggle in the heart, and the obstacles of reality all turned into bubbles in the end. Disappeared without a sound. Many years later, looking back, I just thought it was ordinary. But the past remains the same, and I am still as lonely as yesterday.