Turning hands into rain and flowers

Time has reached this number before you know it.

You are here, and so am I -- some people are gone.

We made a promise -- but I didn't keep it, don't you remember?

In fact, until now, I still refuse certain invitations and agreements—because I don’t want them, or because I’m afraid to take them—just as we still failed to keep them even if we made an agreement. is pointless.

But in the loneliness I deliberately created, I can faintly see the emptiness of my life: I will regret the decision I made now-even if I don't regret the decision I made now.

What a sad time-space gap!

I can't force myself to change and become someone I don't like, but I know that I will still become that kind of person after all--but when the change is approaching, I will hate my persistence very much... ...Oh no, at that time, it should be stubborn.

Year after year, it is like frost covering layer upon layer, and finally changes into another appearance, only you know the original appearance - but that appearance can no longer be reproduced, just like time cannot be reversed, neither you nor I We can meet each other as promised.

I used my courage to complete the life I wanted to insist on, but in the end, I could only use memories to accompany the scars after my stubbornness-it doesn't make any sense to think about whether it is worth it, because that is also a kind of stubbornness.