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The first ray of sunshine in the morning gently embraces the quiet campus.
Looking up, the sky and the earth were bright golden.
Under the leafy camphor tree, several students holding English books are memorizing words attentively.
A girl wearing headphones and listening to music was walking on the boulevard, and a boy who was running towards her accidentally bumped into her. The girl staggered and looked a little embarrassed. A trace of annoyance flashed across her face. She clenched her fists tightly, trying to suppress her anger.
The boy in sportswear sitting opposite her had an apologetic smile on his face.
Time passes by in the never-ending alternation of day and night, and the figures that you once couldn't bear to forget in your memory gradually become blurred, while certain figures force their way into your sight, and their outlines gradually become clearer.
I have loved, resented, and even hated, but all of this in the past turned into a helpless sigh in the new years, somewhere, on a certain morning .
You must have been like me, caring in your heart but pretending to be indifferent on the surface, yet secretly unable to help paying attention to those people.
Can all the damage be healed by time?
Can all pain be alleviated by warmth?
Will those boys who hurt me but also warmed me keep their new promises and continue to accompany me through this period of time?
The moth resolutely runs towards the fire. Behind its almost foolish death is a heart that strongly desires warmth.
The moth flying into the fire must be very cold, so it will be willing to die just to get a little warmth. Because the moth knows that cold is a torture, and without warmth, it will die.
And I am the moth that lacks warmth.
Even though I knew I was rushing towards destruction, I also knew that it was also the salvation that would allow me to be reborn.
So, no need to feel sad for me.
