There is nothing more mourning than heart death, and heart death is better than laughing. She suddenly understood this sentence.

She may have suddenly understood, suddenly let go, and suddenly relieved.

She wasn't happy at all, she watched him talk and laugh with other girls, she watched him not care about himself, he looked at his indifference to himself, she watched him write his dislove on his face.

She wasn't happy at all.

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Maybe the girl is like this, he smiled at her, she felt that he was still the boy who lowered his head and kissed her forehead, she felt that there was still hope, everything was worth it, and there would always be results if she tried again, he didn't say to break up, he loved her.

She wanted to lie to herself.

He actually never hated her, he would take a little time to spend with her, he would go to and from school with her, he would bring her breakfast, and he would pet her hair and smile at her.

But he also gave her only these, only gave her a vague and ethereal tenderness, not a future.

He will also ask himself, why don't he love her, he likes to be drunk with lights, but she is quiet and stable in the present world.

He thinks that love is just a game, and women are used to play, but she is so serious, and seriousness makes him angry, and he doesn't know why he is angry.

Later, I realized that I was actually afraid, afraid that I would love her, and afraid that I would change because of her, so I pushed her away.

She began to grow stronger again.

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She stopped telling him whether she was happy or sad, and she still smiled like that, standing on tiptoe to rub his hair or fasten the two buttons of his shirt.

She didn't cry anymore, only occasionally felt sad, and the sadness was in the air, suffocating to death.

He liked the empty hallways of the school when the twilight was down, and he leaned against the window, his shadow was stretched crookedly and slender, and there were junior boys playing basketball outside, and the sound was like the chirping of cicadas.

He didn't know when she appeared, holding a few books in his hand and looking out the window.

He didn't bother to pay attention to her, staring at his shadow in a daze.

"Let's break up,"

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She still looked out the window and said lightly, "I'll let you go." ”

He was a little angry, what did she say about the breakup that made her let herself go?

But he didn't say it, he knew he was not qualified, he was just angry with her that she had always known that she didn't love her.

"Okay." He couldn't tell what mood he was in, obviously he was finally relieved, but he couldn't be happy and wanted to get angry.

"I'll love you for two more years, and I can only hold on for so long," she turned her head and smiled.

"Two years, if you think about it, come back to me."

He felt that this was nonsense, there was no way he could go back to her, and she couldn't wait for him for two years.

He didn't speak, turned and left, thinking about what beautiful girls would be there at today's night.

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They didn't cross paths anymore, as if everything that was connected between them had come to an abrupt end.

He can still see her, she has good grades, she was admitted to a very good school, she is wearing a white dress and standing in the third position from the left in the first row when she takes a graduation photo, and she likes to post some interesting things around her in the circle of friends, likes to take pictures with her friends, and likes to laugh shallowly.

He hadn't looked for her again, two years before, and two years later, and as he had thought, he couldn't have gone back to her.

They didn't cross paths anymore, as if everything that was connected between them had come to an abrupt end.

He still calculated the two years in his heart, consciously or unconsciously, and he didn't know what psychology he was holding, like a gamble.

So when I heard from her that night two years later, my heart sank.

"I'm not waiting for you anymore."

He thought about the five words, deleted and typed, typed and deleted, and finally only typed a "good" and clicked send.

Red exclamation mark.

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He smiled, feeling a little pathetic. He felt that his head was messed up, so he threw his phone aside, turned off the light and lay on the bed to go to bed early today.

It's quiet inside and outside the house, and it's as if it's not alive. He stared out the window and looked at the stars all night.

Old people often say that if you dream of someone you haven't seen for a long time, that person is about to forget you.

He's been dreaming about her lately.

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She was always so quiet, when she came, and when she left.

He couldn't find her anymore, and she changed all her contact information.

No, he knew she was starting a new life. He thought about it and felt that he was cheap, like a fool.

When she was there, she had no fear, and now that she is gone, what qualifications do you have to torture her again. He felt that he didn't love her, just a one-way consumption and enjoying the fact that she liked him.

Most of the feelings in the world are like this, there are not so many vigorous, there are not so many life and death, and in the end they are just plain and insipid.

He has been unable to sleep well lately.

He grabbed a few cans of wine and wanted to get a good night's sleep today. One can after another, for the effect of just trying to sleep, the amount is a little more.

He didn't know why he had this thought, he kept thinking that if he hadn't childishly pushed her away, would the result be different.

He couldn't figure it out, and the more he thought about it, the more uncomfortable it became.

Half drunk wine was thrown there, a mess. He staggered back to his room and lay down on the bed.

He just wanted to sleep now.

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There are many things in the past that we can no longer verify, and he rolled over, buried his head in the crook of his arm, and took a deep breath.

Some regrets, a lifetime of poverty, can only be regrets. He thought he was about to forget her, he couldn't even remember what she looked like.

When he woke up from his dream, he saw a dim light, he leaned against the window of the school corridor, his shadow was stretched long, his body was warm, not far from him stood a girl, holding a few books in her hand, staring at a few boys playing basketball in the playground outside the window, he followed her gaze, those boys looked like him, and some did not look like him.

He felt bored, turned his head to look at her, the wind drove his hair, wafting out beautiful lines, his eyes were bright, but he couldn't see joy and sorrow, the wind blew a good smell, some familiar, he couldn't remember it in his dream for a while.

The girl probably noticed that someone was looking at her, turned her head, looked at him and smiled, the sun shining on her face, warm and sweet.

"You're back." Perhaps at that moment, his heart moved.

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Afterward..........

When you wake up, it's time for everything to end.

About you, I can't love you after all.

He is me in the story, and I am you in the story.

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