In my memory, I can no longer seem to outline your face, and the promises once made have gone with the wind, leaving no trace behind of their disappearance. I know that the record of this time, from the moment you turned away, I no longer had the strength to revisit.
The flowing night, as always, is deep; the streets covered by moonlight witness sorrow and longing dancing together, filling my lonely soul. In this way, without realizing it, I fall into the vast ocean of memories and cannot awake for a long time.
If it is time that has widened the distance between us and diluted the marks of love, why does recalling it still feel so deeply engraved? Perhaps the pain back then was too thorough, leaving my crying soul with an eternal imprint, stubbornly wandering in the layers of time, unwilling to disperse.
Perhaps, there are many things that even time cannot restore! Like scars, like memories, no matter how the years change, no matter how time tries to soothe, traces will always remain. Yes! How can so many experiences ever be erased by time? Saying we forget does not mean we truly forget. A broken mirror might be pieced together, but a broken heart—how could one ever piece it together to return to its original completeness? Does one really need to turn back time to trace it?
Looking at the bustling and brightly lit city in the distance, a feeling of loneliness naturally arises. Who gave me a heart full of laughter and sweetness, and who gave me endless sorrow and helplessness? Though in the world of love, coming together and parting need not wait, and everyone should have grown accustomed to it, yet, you are not me—how could you understand my pain? When tears recklessly stream down my face, washing away the whispers you left behind, taking all remaining traces, what remains—is it only the love that still lingers in my heart?
If in the nights of longing, you are no longer there, who can weave my midnight dreams? My exiled heart continues to wander in the sea of people, repeatedly reenacting every passing encounter.
And so, you turned and left, leaving only my longing to hover in the same place. Your resolute silhouette, through my blurred tearful eyes, pierced the injured heart sharply, leaving me in so much pain that I no longer have the strength to endure such a heart-wrenching agony.I know that your departure will never look back again, nor will it be recalled. The outstretched hands will never hold you again. I can only pretend to be indifferent and wish you well, leaving the sorrowful tears to a corner where no one is, slowly flowing back into my heart.
Sometimes I wonder if a person has walked too far and forgotten the direction they initially chose. Looking back, the road behind me has long been overgrown with weeds, leaving only a solitary figure faintly visible. I know that when thought begins to freeze and I step to the edge, I will no longer find the way back. Perhaps this is the witness of myself that I have buried with my own hands.
Suddenly, I remembered a saying by Guo Simao: 'Memory is like water poured into the palm. Whether you open it or clench it tightly, it will eventually drip clean through your fingers.' Isn't love much the same? No matter how careful you are, it will slowly disappear bit by bit.
I remember you once told me that memories are like paper money, created to commemorate the past that has died. I replied, if it's paper money, why do you insist on holding it like an art piece, appreciating it carefully every day? In fact, neither you nor I can forget the traces of that past. Although you still smile so brightly in public and your achievements remain impressive, is this really the ending you desire, or is it a self-imposed exile because you couldn't find a home to return to?
In fact, for a very long period of time, I kept thinking: if I had not met her back then, what would I be like now? Would I also flaunt myself like those fashionably dressed young people?
If your beauty needs to be adorned with my tears, then I ask you to take all my longing away. I don't want to curl up alone in a dark corner, licking my wounds!
If the past winds were merely aimless drifting, I hope the passing clouds can take away all my memories. I don't want to habitually think of you in every season of blooming and fading flowers!
It's just a pity that these 'ifs' are ultimately merely my powerless cries, murmurs that surface in dreams after I fall asleep. They freeze in a unique way in the shadow of my lonely figure...
Years vanish like smoke, lightly painting parting sorrow. In your world, I am merely a passing happiness!
