How many nights has this been?

How many nights have I been listening to sad music and unable to sleep.

How many nights, I still miss that person, and I can't get rid of the pain in my heart.

How many nights have I wondered what I'm living for.

I'm depressed, I'm hesitant, I'm confused, I'm overwhelmed.

But I have never flinched, because I have always believed that I have her by my side, the gentle her, the beautiful her, the one who understands me.

However, she is just a fantasy, she only exists in the world of my fantasy, she will never be able to appear, she is I will never meet her in the human world.

If one day, I stop all thinking activities, it must be that I am far away from this world.

But no one wants to leave this world, not even the faint of heart, the timid of this world, even the depressed people, or maybe those who commit suicide, they never want to leave this world, because they are far from the human world.

They were lonely and stopped thinking. But some people really leave because they have long stopped thinking, and the last thought of struggling is only the inertia of thinking.

I watched as the stars in the sky became farther and farther away from me, and disappeared into the original night in a flash, leaving only a lonely bright moon, whose cold light illuminated the whole world, desolate, cold.

The seasons are constantly changing, alternating, and life is constantly changing, but it has not been repeated, only the occasional mistakes are made, but they are made again.

When will I be able to see my friends gathered under the full moonlight, and I will not be able to see the person who has left regrets in my life again. Day after day, year after year, just like that, slowly, slowly, slowly, slowly, growing old alone.

The light rain was slightly cool that day, and you walked past me, whispering, a sentence of no more love made me loveless in this life.

It's hard to love someone; It hurts to think about being alone; It's so easy to hurt someone. What can be hurt is the person who loves you, and if you don't love you, there is only hatred, not hurt.

I left, I left, never to return, I waited at the junction of light and shadow, waiting for only the blurring of memories, until one day I turned into a stone statue. One day, some young men and women passed by me, wondering why the stone statues here were shedding tears, transparent and clear tears. The boys boldly drew graffiti on me and wrote the words "Come here", and the girls stood on top of me and took pictures with me. There was only one girl with clear eyebrows, she waited, waiting for those who had "friendly" with me to leave, she took out a tissue, wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes, and helped me wash off the graffiti on my body with mineral water, and when she was done, she bowed deeply to me, and then left, away from me and away from the crowd just now. The millennium of waiting, at this moment, seems insignificant.

The world has been bleak, but the reality is still prosperous, what kind of prosperity, sacrificing emotional prosperity, material prosperity.

I sang a one-man show, watched the worldly performances, I was a play, I was also a spectator. I probably can't be a clown, because I can't learn their superb beam-jumping skills, and I don't know how to win people's hearts with rhetoric.

I was searching, looking for that ray of sunshine in my life, that ray of sunshine that could light up my whole dark world, that ray of sunshine that could burn me.

I changed from a stone statue to a bird, flying under the vast blue sky, looking for the medium that changed me. At this time, the clouds were thick, it was pouring down, the rain wet my wings, and I had to stop my plans and hide under the trees. I watched as the raindrops on the leaves fell on my wings, and then white smoke rose, and then I felt a burning smell and pain. Then I realized that this rain was the rain of destruction and the rain of death. I saw the forest slowly dying, and the animals fleeing in all directions. After the rain, the blue sky was still the same, but there were only countless tree stands on the ground and me hiding under the tree frames.

Loneliness, spreading in the night, occupies all the soul and consciousness of man, and in the dark, tossing and turning, it is difficult to sleep.

What is the soul, what secrets are hidden in consciousness, why do people feel lonely and lonely because they are independent. It is also said that a person's loneliness is not terrible, what is terrible is that you stand in the midst of a lively crowd, you still can't see anyone, you can't hear any sound, the whole world is wrong with you, you don't seem to be a part of this world.

People are born with the root of depression, and the adjustment of the day after tomorrow allows it to be suppressed in the depths of people's hearts. The root of depression lies in the watchfulness of loneliness, they can't find anything else in this world to support them to continue walking, so some people choose to leave. Some people say that love is a cure for depression, but I think it may not work, even if it is a harmonious family, some people cannot resist the call of loneliness.

I was lonely and depressed, but I knew that I had to go on until the earth was desolate, until the sea was dry, because that person, that little girl, smiled and lit up my soul, so that I could still see the full moon thousands of miles above me in the dark night.