Yes.

I'm still like that.

I digress as soon as I speak.

Your previous photos.

I'll still tell them about you.

And then I said how good you are.

I don't know if it's pure self-deception or deliberate deception.

I keep repeating those love words. Always. Repeated.

I tell them that our quarrel will turn into a cold war, and then you always come back and say, "Okay."

I didn't tell them how aggrieved I was and how sad I was.

I told them I woke up late every time I went to school, and then you said you were waiting like a nerd at the intersection.

I didn't tell them that one day you got sick and didn't go to school. How empty I was when I walked through that intersection.

I told them that once I watched you play, and then you turned to look at me and got hit by the ball.

But I didn't tell them about the nosebleeds you had later. I've been seeing you're okay when I'm bleeding.

I told them how crazy you were about me.

But I don't say how passive I am, and I don't say how much I care.

I call you a very good person.

Maybe in my heart. That's it.

I don't tell them you're sick because I don't want them to think you're in bad shape. I don't tell them about your credits because I don't want them to know that you're going to miss too. I don't tell them that you get angry sometimes, because I want them to think you're so obsessed with being good to me forever.

I just want them to think I'm an inner.

And to glorify the reward I have received.

I don't think I understood it at the time.

The beautiful things that fall in vain in this world are called meteors.

It hits you, and its essence is a meteorite, with the aim of killing you.

Stefanie Sun. "Afraid".

Somewhat sleepy.

I want to sleep.

It occurred to me that you were already asleep.

The one who says goodnight to me every day.

I told myself that this is how it is for double men.

You can make others blush and heartbeat when you don't take it seriously.

I don't know what's going on.

I've always wanted to say a lot lately. But I can't say it completely and coherently.

I should be a rational person.

After all, I am not such a fiery and sensual woman, and I can't do the duty of a moth to a fire.

It suddenly occurred to me that I might have become that lazy and cold again.

I guess that's what you like.

Dispassionate. Proud. Passive.

And to you, add a good one to deal with.

I said if one day it starts to hate me.

Just give me a reason.

Whether it's a straightforward phrase like "I hate you" or an excuse like "I'm busy".

I take it all seriously.

You will give me a charity, even if it is a perfunctory reason, so that I can convince myself to disappear completely.

So be it.

Actually, I don't know what it is. That's what I always say.