She has been accustomed to exiling herself in the darkness, letting her wild self run endlessly. Like a wild horse that has broken free of its reins, she indulges in unrestrained freedom and noise. Once, she promised herself a tomorrow filled with prosperity and beauty. There would be tender love, a rising sun, deep friendship, aged wine, strong family ties, and a fragrant rose garden. Her youthful years passed by like a galloping horse, the whistle blew off the focused iris, and the rampant scenery of a summer's splendor was etched in her world of expectations. That promise was originally vague, dreamlike, and seemingly endless, yet she willingly confined herself. In thousands of years of looking back and waiting, she fell into despair and sorrow, realizing that life was nothing more than this: writing decadent and sentimental words, indulging in the night, playing melancholic music, and then slowly growing old.