Very sad. Well, write something. I am very much like an old wall. The wall records my past years. It is in pieces. Broken. Extremely desolate. Extremely lonely. I am this old wall. In the quiet darkness, silently bear one person's end of the world. Recently, I always feel that my head is in a mess. As if there are countless pigeons flying with flapping wings. Snow-white feathers flying all over the sky. Covering my eyes. Concealing my heart. I stand foolishly under the boundless dome. Looking at white clouds. Looking at pigeons. Seeing that patch after patch of bone-chilling desolation. I am like a discarded dog. Wandering everywhere. I dare not walk on bustling streets. Because I am afraid to see people dressed in fine clothes. I am afraid to see intimate lovers. I am afraid to see the torn wounds on myself. I am cowardly. Cowardly enough to want to find a hole. Curl up inside forever. Don't see people. Don't see light. Finally, die in silence. Since the day you left, I have been living in brokenness and pain. Pain. These two words are indeed very simple when written out. But when you truly taste its flavor, that feeling is bloody. People say real pain is not losing hands or feet. But heartache. My heart used to hold the beautiful you. Unfortunately, I lost you. So my heart broke. Residues fell all over the ground. That is regret. Originally loved. Many things can never be forgotten. Because it has already been deeply imprinted in the depths of the heart sea without form. And the harm brought by love. Maybe. That is a pain that lasts a lifetime. There will be some events. Some people. Remind us that we once illuminated each other's eyes. Shattering violently. And still missing. I am almost gone. Really gone.