Peony Heavy Ripple Carmine

I don't know how I can not love her, not pay attention to everything about her.

I used to think that I could cut off this relationship easily, even if it was like tidying up the house, packing up and sealing those past memories and storing them in the deepest part of the cabinet.But these longings are like a stubborn seed, as long as a small opening is opened, the memory will rush out like a tide bursting a bank.

I was drowning in it, shouting, running, calling for help.

The chain called emotion tied my hands and feet tightly, and I couldn't move.In the space of thinking, in the mind, wantonly washed and baptized by memory.I couldn't make a sound, I just felt that the joys and sorrows of the past reappeared, and finally gathered in my chest like a stream, like a huge bloody ball, connected by thousands of invisible silk threads Looking at the other side of another dimension, maybe the end is where that person exists.

I just realized that this is emotion, this is love.

I still love her dearly.

Because of those intricacies, the two people who should have been face-to-face and confiding in each other are far away from each other.

These too are love.

Love for yourself that builds up barriers to protect yourself.

Missing like moths eroded the box of memory, and I became more and more at a loss.

I can't love anymore, because I understand very clearly and don't want to hurt.

If this is the case, she will be fine, and I, even if it is worth enduring such suffering repeatedly.If it wasn't like this, both of them are so considerate of each other, is that the joy of the beloved, or the desolation of shrinking back?

I always think so.

Even in my dream, I refused coldly, not because I wanted to, but because I thought about it too much, and instead buried my sincerity.

I want to be happy, and I want the people I love to be happy too.

Can I be her happiness?

The author has something to say:

I was tormented almost mad by the longing.

What am I holding on to?

The way that has never been shaken or, what else?

Pride is at work.

I clearly understand that the one I fall in love with may be the person who has been deified.

It is precisely because I can't get it that I want it even more.

But even so, I have to admit, this is love.