Time never stops moving forward; when we possess something, we begin the countdown to its loss.

Memories are like rotting leaves; the freshness and verdant green have long been buried in the past, leaving only the overwhelming stench of decay at the end. I always thought mountains were the story of water, clouds the story of wind, and you my story, but I don't know if I am your story. Lonely people always remember everyone who has appeared in their lives, so I always think of you with lingering affection, counting my loneliness again and again on every starlit night. You gave me a single tear, and I saw the entire ocean in your heart. We are like the hands of a clock, constantly turning, watching time rush by, yet powerless to stop it. You will never see me at my loneliest, because I am only truly lonely when you are not by my side. Wounds, like me, are stubborn children, refusing to heal, because the heart is a warm, damp place, suitable for anything to grow. Time has not taught me anything, but it has taught me not to easily believe in myths. Who is a passerby in whose life, who is the turning wheel of whose life, the dust of the past life, the wind of this life, the endless sorrowful spirit. Memory is like water poured into the palm of your hand; whether you open your hand or clench it tightly, it will eventually slip through your fingers, drop by drop. Holding your hand, wherever we are, I feel like I'm running towards heaven. Not every effort yields results, but every result requires effort—an unfair and irreversible proposition. Forgetting is our unchangeable destiny; everything is like misaligned blueprints. The past can never be returned to; it just slowly extends, gradually drifting apart. Perhaps, what has drifted apart, we should truly forget. Those who once vowed never to part are now scattered to the ends of the earth. You don't know what you're expecting, what you're holding onto; what lingers in your mind are the reflections of the past. You were the one who first said you loved me, and you're also the one who hurt me the most in the end. People always pay the price for their mistakes; it's not enough for you to say sorry and I have to say it's okay. Only when tears fall do you realize how much it hurts. Love is beautiful at the beginning, but the ending is always cruel. Even as wounds heal, they can experience restless itching. I think I'm too silent for you to understand my language.

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Time never stops moving forward; when we possess something, we begin the countdown to its loss.

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