I want to slowly and gently express the deep feelings in my soul, hoping that someone will understand. I know that some people will definitely understand, while others will never do so. Some people, some things, once they have passed, they become desolate. Those people, those things, those once-upon-a-times, like fleeting clouds, have splendidly disappeared, cannot be returned to, cannot go back to the past anymore. The heart has been deeply scarred by time. Perhaps you really came, but things remain the same while people have changed, and we can't go back. Watching the distant neon lights flashing arrogantly, because we are all proud, so we both understand that what has been lost will not come back. Once upon a time, the distance between the heart and pain was so close, a flicker of longing would make the heart ache. But now, the longing has expired, the heartache will no longer come. Yet, who are you standing right in front of me? When I see you, my body loses sensation, everything around becomes so quiet, and we just quietly look at each other, neither of us saying a word, letting the passers-by rush by and exchange glances.
Forgetting how many circles time has walked, forgetting how time flows, forgetting how long it has been since I last smiled, and also forgetting that there was once you in my memory. However, we just pass by each other. Neither of us looks back, maybe this is exactly the result we want, and it will be our mutual release. No longer let our hearts entangle with each other, nor let us bear the burden.
Thus, I quietly walk alone at the entrance of the community, the sad melody on my mobile phone repeats again and again, echoing my disheartened mood. On the road, pedestrians rush by aimlessly walking on the path. Although the temperature is close to minus several degrees Celsius, my heart remains so calm and peaceful, no longer stirring up waves. I don't know whether it's because I finally encountered this moment, or because we ultimately fell silent, and those topics that don't belong to us have also ended. Maybe I am only momentarily quiet, I don't know.
Memory is like water, how good it would be if it passes without a trace. Life is like a dream, how good it would be to be drunk in it? But when we wake up in the end, the existence of tears tells me that everything is not an illusion.