Now even the weather can control my mood, and when I go back to the dormitory after class, the rain is still there, and there seems to be no intention of stopping. A rain washed away the dust of the earth's servants and gently covered it with a light coat. I didn't have an umbrella, and it was a different taste to walk in this drizzling rain.

Lately, there are too many maybes in my head, too many ifs to deceive myself. I can't just write pencil to erase these painful memories and keep only the good parts. I have to admit that memories have become a part of life.

"The eyes are clearer because of the tears, and the heart is warmer because of the sorrows." In the past, when I encountered difficulties and worries, I always comforted myself with such chicken soup. If the tears are enough to blur your eyes and prevent you from seeing, if the heart that has suffered so much has long been strained and has no perception, then you know that it is contrary to me.

Once sweetly written-I am like a cloud, gently swimming on your brows, embellishing your tenderness with the wind. If I become rain, I will rush to your smile in the veins, and interpret your freedom with the wind. If I become the wind, through the branches and leaves, stepping on thorns, telling the past to the youth, there are tears to play, but not sadness.

But when everything ceases to exist, these things become fools' dreams. It's not like last year, when sentimentality turned into trouble.

The frivolity of youth and the inevitable hesitation make memories bitter and sweet.

I don't know how many times I have met to have such an ordinary but memorable encounter. Maybe it's because I've walked a little longer that I know that I'm heartbeat, maybe it's because I've gone through an extra journey that I dare to show my sincerity, maybe it's because of the years together that I have laughter and tears. We talk about dreams, we soothe each other's hearts, and we immerse ourselves in brilliant plots to weave emotions. There have been frustrations, there have been laughter, there have been contradictions, there have been understandings. The rings of time run over each other's hearts and leave memories. Indeed, as Hiroko said, I should take a detour of the journey, don't hold on to the past, once it happens, it becomes the past, there is no if and no repeat.

I swear, I laughed, laughed until tears fell.

I don't know if it's chicken soup, chicken soup that numbs my soul. It's been a long time since I've written a diary, and suddenly I feel strange, and when I want to write again, it's all because of you.

A phone call at about 3 o'clock in the morning on September 24, you called, but you didn't receive it because of the mute mode. For more than 100 days, a sudden phone call, a little caught off guard, dozens of phone calls, dozens of text messages in exchange for a missed call as if nothing had happened. I thought something had happened to you, and I was a little worried, but I woke up in the morning and went back to realize that nothing had happened, so I was relieved. I started to slowly let go, I didn't think about it, I didn't write a diary, and now what's wrong?

From that day on, you started to call constantly, but I didn't know what to do, so I deliberately distanced myself and texted back when I didn't answer the phone and said that I was in class. Because I'm afraid, I'm afraid that I'll start running to the corridor to sit and watch the moon without sleeping at night again, and I'm afraid that it will be an infinite loop of unrequited love again. There are too many memories of the first time together, and that kind of happiness is no longer there. I don't think I need to share that mixed feelings with anyone.

As long as you are around, looking at you face-to-face, no matter where you are, it doesn't matter what you do. Thank you for everything you have done for me, and often it is just me telling the bitterness of missing you. Come to think of it, I can't figure out what I've done for you. So I don't have a reason to blame you, it's just that I complain in my own world and never tell you. I think maybe it's because of my first love, that's why I can't forget it. Once had a crush on a girl for three years and never spoke, that kind of taste is no worse than now.

We have different circles and lifestyles now, and I know that you are going to Shanghai, and I shouldn't ask you too much and occupy your time, which makes me seem selfish. So I think it's better not to keep in touch often, I don't want you to always fill my mind, we will talk in that world that belongs to me, I will hide you in my heart. You made your choice, and I choose to set you free.

Good night.

—Diary, November 4, 2012

I can't find a proverb of my own. Maybe I'm just doing something muddy and there's no point to back it up. The flowers bloom and grate, the spring water flows out and is evaporated, each has its own rules, and you also have the life you want.