The feeling of secretly loving someone is like a seed waiting to sprout in a bottle. You can never be sure whether the future is beautiful or not, but you are waiting sincerely and stubbornly.

I met you a long time ago.

Miss you at night, always inadvertently spread. Why, this tear will always flow out.

Your shadow, rotting in my heart, can't be waved away.

I humble myself and miss you in my heart.

The kind of sadness that has never flourished.

Everything about us is just the past and will eventually disappear.

I know I can only look at your back, stand behind you and feel your face, which is clearly printed in my heart.

Some things are known from the beginning, but they are still blindly insisting.

The most painful thing is that I have to grieve for you, even though I know that I am just an insignificant passer-by in your life.

Missing turned into missing. The heart becomes broken. But I still care. Who do you belong to?