E-PT

 You owe me a period of time, yet it hurts my heart. 1. After breaking up with him, she dated many boyfriends. Not long after, she broke up with them again. Round and round it went, and finally, she got back together with him. But she kept backing away, afraid to give her heart away. I'm no longer as innocent as I used to be. 2. All along, her friends said she was immature, childish. After breaking up with him, she decided to learn to be mature. She started pretending to be mature, not acting cute, not complaining, not crying, not being weak. One day, she commented on someone's post, "I feel powerless against myself." The person replied, "You feel this way?" She said, "In your eyes, am I really invincible enough to bear everything?" Yes. She smiled. Is this the maturity she wanted? 3. They're always like this. After a period of indifference, they meet again, acting as if the previous indifference never existed, behaving so intimately. After mee...

     I love you, but it has nothing to do with you.     I understand perfectly well that I've never truly entered your heart; I can never replace him in yours. I'm just a passerby in your life... When you first deleted me from your friends list, I already knew I was just a substitute. I called so many times before you finally answered. You said, "We're only suited to be friends," but I knew very well that in the end, we wouldn't even be friends; we'd become strangers! But I wasn't willing to accept it! I kept trying, trying so hard! I thought I would succeed. Every time, all I got was heartbreak.     On Friday, you said you were feeling down and asked me to keep you company. You don't know how excited I was, staying up all night looking at your picture until dawn. On Saturday, I waited for you at the station. You came, you finally came. You came carrying a heavy heart. During dinner, you cried and kept saying "him." You said you liked him...

     To achieve happiness, I've worked tirelessly. I've     always believed happiness is a luxury, not just an abstract concept, but something that must be realized through substantial material possessions. Happiness is like a fish; to catch it, you need at least a fishing rod and some bait, right? Happiness is like a bird; to obtain it, you need at least a birdcage, right? Therefore, I've always believed that happiness not only has a price, but it's very expensive.     To achieve happiness, I've worked tirelessly. To live in a big house, I gave up all my vacations, made my home in the office, just to earn more overtime pay. Until one day, a stomach ailment flared up, forcing me to undergo surgery. After the surgery, I was incredibly weak, and the emotional despair made me even more disheartened. My mother brought me a bowl of chicken soup, feeding me spoonful by spoonful. When I heard my mother softly say, "Child, as long as you're alive, there's hope...

     Holding onto a longing, I watch over the passing time.     If there were no wind, the clouds would be the rain's guardians. If there were no dreams, waiting would waste time. If there were no you, where would my burning heart find rest?     On the road of love, I've stumbled and bumped along the way, experiencing joy and sorrow, separation and reunion, only to return to the starting point once more. This time, however, I've seen through it all, unwilling to believe in or try again the beauty of love. Holding onto a longing, I watch over the fleeting time. No matter how the years ravage me, I'm willing to endure loneliness and live a solitary life.     I never imagined love could make someone weary. I never imagined one could live well alone. I used to think that even if someone didn't believe in love, they would still have the ability and courage to love again. But later I realized I was completely wrong. A broken heart is like a mirror;...

     If we can truly be together, it's okay to wait.     If you like someone, start as friends. You can care for and encourage each other like a couple. That way, even if the feelings fade later, you can still be good friends.     Don't lose someone you feel is right for you because of an immature relationship. At this age, we can't offer a future or take on the responsibility. We don't need to rush into a relationship out of fear of losing each other.     We don't need to define our relationship to prove our love. Just leave a space for each other in your hearts. We love each other, but we're not a couple. As long as we continue to like each other, we can be together when we're mature and settled. It's never too late.     No matter how sweet his words were, how beautiful his promises were, how many things he did that moved him, how many love words he said that made you cry, no matter how tightly he held you, how deeply he kissed yo...

 The cricket's chirping, like nails, slowly wedged into a person's heart, simply wanting to say that you are a jade cup overflowing with me . Autumn's silhouette is etched into my heart; I am your backdrop, like an autumn chrysanthemum, withering away in the interplay of light and shadow. The wind that brushed past finally landed on a sycamore tree, seeing the marks of time it left on my face , slowly opening myself up. Perhaps speaking and expressing myself is what I should do. And forgetting is like moonlight spilling across the world.

     Sometimes, some people leave without a goodbye.     Sometimes, some things are clear without being spoken.     Sometimes, some roads seem longer even without being walked.     Those people, those things, those roads—they are just those things, just things that have passed with time.     I often stare blankly at the spaces of the past; those friends who promised never to leave are gone, turned away, strangers.     The familiar becomes calm,     the calm fades,     the faded becomes unfamiliar     , the unfamiliar disappears,     the disappeared becomes strangers.     Promises, burdens I can't bear; from now on, I won't trust; from now on, it's inconvenient to promise; from now on, I'll learn to be indifferent.     Caring too much about friends makes me lose myself, and in the end, I always abandon myself on a deserted island to heal alone. I refuse to show too...

     How many roads must one walk in a lifetime to transform a rugged, muddy path into a smooth, wide highway?     How many people must one pass through in a lifetime to find one who is willing to grow old with you?     —Epigraph          Life is always about finding what you want in countless searches, yet also about losing sight of what you once possessed in the process. Knowing that this search is long and arduous, I sometimes hide in my own little world in silence, and often look back at the road I've traveled, seeing all the emotions of that time as equally earth-shattering, and inevitably laugh at my younger, naive self, then sigh with a touch of helplessness: Growth, this thing called growth!     One day, I suddenly remembered someone's youthful past and wrote a post on social media: "In the winter of 2012, why did my brain feel frozen? I was so stupid that every time I think about it, I want to slap myself. I'...

     Sometimes silence is more terrifying than turmoil. The silence may be the final explosion of anger. But at that moment of explosion, nothing matters anymore, not even words. It's not that there are no thoughts, no resentment, no desire to struggle; it's just exhaustion. So in the final moment, all I want is stillness. To be like when I'm asleep, without thought, without pressure.     After struggling for so long, the result is still the same. I endure, but I will admit defeat. Some things shouldn't be endured; that only makes things more painful. Letting go is truly a relief, even if I feel a temporary loss. Sometimes we automatically choose to forget things that are meaningless and cause us pain. Or perhaps we deliberately recall happy memories, until in the end, the memories are overflowing, making separation all the more difficult. No matter how unbearable the process, I still remember the good things.     Time slips away, those who came, those...

     Late autumn. Night. Dusk.     I stand alone by the French windows, watching the bustling traffic under the moonlight. Tomorrow will be another day of global significance, and my thoughts drift back to that year. Yes, ten years have passed in the blink of an eye. A poem says, "Ten years have passed, life and death are separated by a vast distance," but looking back on these ten years, the days seem to have flown by.     Ten years ago, we had desks; we sat in front of and behind each other.     If youthful innocence is the most beautiful part of life, then she must have been the most beautiful scenery of that time! The pressure of the college entrance exam was both tempting and daunting for every immature heart. Back then, I sat behind her, playing with her hair, yet I could still hear everything the teacher said perfectly. Her hair was scattered on my books, and the delicate, alluring scent of shampoo always made me want to stroke it. I k...

     I used to think that only the lights of countless homes could bring warmth. But now, wandering the streets alone, I realize that true loneliness comes from having countless lights but not a single one for yourself. This     is the first time I've stayed in a hotel alone in a completely unfamiliar city. Outside the window, cars come and go, the curtains are drawn tightly, yet the noise is still so palpable. I've never felt so helpless, so lonely.     I always thought of myself as a brave girl, but today, after experiencing just this little thing, I feel like I couldn't possibly handle it alone. My first time taking a high-speed train, and I almost couldn't get my ticket. I got ripped off by a taxi driver. The hotel I found was ridiculously expensive, and I was almost exhausted. But thankfully, a kind auntie gave me a ride. At least I found a place to stay for the night. So tired, so very tired, but I don't want to sleep at all.     I stil...

 That day, I met you in the warmth of spring,   January 25, 2016. It was the first time we met, and your pure smile and warm words were deeply imprinted in my mind. I've always thought that your smile could warm people's hearts. How lucky that girl was to meet you and receive your care and love.   But I never imagined that while I was noticing you, you would also notice me. It was fate that brought us together. That day, my heart was filled with warmth.   Later, you got my contact information, and your daily texts and greetings warmed my heart. You started pursuing me unintentionally. I really wanted to say yes from the beginning, but I couldn't be with you without knowing anything. During my trip, I learned you didn't have a girlfriend. So when I came back, I mustered up the courage to accept your pursuit and be with you. Because of past traumas, I was hesitant to believe in love again, but you made me truly happy.    Now we are very happy together. Our oc...

 The splendor has faded, leaving only a sorrowful memory of bygone years. Leaning against the railing, gazing at the endless starry night, my head bowed, my brow furrowed with longing. I gaze towards the horizon, my sorrowful years fading. In my dreams, I find only empty tears. The long night continues, a sliver of moonlight falls upon my heart, casting a shadow of melancholy. My brow furrows, a bittersweet melody swirling within me. The beauty of yesteryear, once a source of joy, is now gone, years have passed, and in this mortal world, there seems to be no future. The splendor has faded, leaving only a sorrowful memory of bygone years. ----- Prologue A lingering dream, a lonely figure piercing the desolation, treading on the moonlight, picking up old dreams from bygone years. A thousand strands of tenderness, gradually fading with time, ultimately succumbing to the relentless flow of years, scattering the past, withering the face, betraying the passing years. A thousand turns of ...

 Love, only in the name of love.     I think your beauty is an arrow, created from wishful thinking, piercing my very marrow.     If you want to be a seagull, I'll fly with you across the vast ocean; if you want to be an insect, I'll lie dormant with you on the earth; if you want to be a steed, I'll gallop with you across the boundless land. Undeterred by wind and rain, undaunted by cold nights, unafraid of fatigue, I only hope you find peace in my life. Love is the call of a star to a planet in the deep night sky, an irresistible force that draws me to your side. Hearing your name breaks my heart.     You are the summer rain, arriving and departing in haste, sneaking into my world in the gap between your coming and going. From then on, the moonlight remains bright, but the night is filled with petals of longing. I lean against the window, watching the falling flowers, collecting their delicate sounds, knocking on my tightly closed door.     ...

     Perhaps for me, Shanghai is a deep-seated, unresolved complex, a longing born of love, like the pure and untainted yearning for a cherished affection. The longer time passes, the stronger this love grows.     How can one love so deeply? How can one express such heartfelt appreciation? Besides the deep-seated, destined connection, is there anything else? Love has broken our vows, who has betrayed our past bond? My heart's letter remains unbound by verses of pure elegance, a solace for my poetic heart amidst the passing years. A gentle, faint smile holds the stories of time, and I have yet to participate.     Shanghai, the real-life Pearl of the Orient, a dazzling city that never sleeps! So many years of history have not only made Shanghai prosperous but also a miracle of history. It is the place of my childhood dreams! Because of these inexplicable emotions, the desire to write has stirred within me. Naturally, it is all because of you!   ...

Pure loneliness is like a pool of clear water, bland and melancholic. If memories are added, it becomes a jar of wine, rich and lingering. Loneliness and memories are inseparable; wherever there are memories, loneliness will inevitably creep in. The difference is that some loneliness is written on one's face, while some is locked in one's heart. For a long time, I often had the same dream: dreaming of school life, of former friends, and of those exam papers filled with crosses, then waking up with a start, only to feel a profound sense of loss. I tried to contact some childhood friends; I could still remember some, but most had been forgotten. I often doubted my memory; the more distant the memory, the clearer it seemed. Those past events etched in the corridors of memory are just dust to others, scattered by the wind. So I deleted phone numbers and stopped browsing my yearbook. But the memories still came as promised, and I could only let loneliness spread… Can you imag...

     Baidu Baike says that lemons are evergreen shrubs and small trees belonging to the Rutaceae family and the Citrus genus. They prefer warmth and shade, but dislike heat.     I love lemons—I love their light fragrance, their bright appearance, and their symbolic meaning: unspoken love. Sunlight streams through the window, falling on my desk. An English reading book and a cup of lemon tea—this is my usual routine during the holidays. I read English to pass the time, and it's something I've always wanted to learn but haven't consistently pursued. This is a way to make up for a small regret. Two slices of lemon and two sugar cubes are enough for me to enjoy for a whole morning. Lemons are slightly bitter, and the two sugar cubes perfectly neutralize that bitterness. Even though I don't like sweets, lemon tea is just what I crave.     It's said that France consumes the most lemons in the world, often using lemon juice for flavoring or garnishing food. O...

     I followed a stream northward, not knowing where the river ended. Lost and bewildered, I simply walked aimlessly along the river.     For eighteen years, a voice in my head had been urging me, "Keep walking along this river, and you will get everything you want." And indeed, for over a decade, I had been doing just that. But as the saying goes, "He who walks by the river will eventually get wet," and so, unexpectedly, it happened.     With the passage of time, everyone has matured and become more composed, more settled, more refined. But this doesn't seem to include me, because I am a "prisoner" of time. I have been eliminated by myself, so I am like an outsider, standing on the edge of that circle, lost and bewildered, still wandering along that river, watching the passing boats rush by, only able to watch, feeling the helplessness of the moment, that deep sense of powerlessness, like a worm, tearing at my already wounded heart.     Yes...

     I like to wander alone through the bustling streets, watching the city lights come on; I like to sit on the steps outside Starbucks, because Starbucks is at the top, and that way I don't feel lonely in the darkness; I like to watch the crowds dancing in the square, as if my enthusiasm, stimulated by unfamiliar sights, makes me forget the loneliness I came from.     The night is lonely, the night is like a net. If I am happy during the day, then I am real at night. I irritably seek warmth, I vent my temper capriciously. You always say you're tired too, and I feel sorry for your weariness, but I also need comfort, so I can't understand your exhaustion. Gradually, I quiet down. In this huge house, we are just a couple making do with each other. It seems marriage can't bridge the distance between us. I can't touch your emotions; you have nowhere to place my youth, so it fades into silence.     The night is lonely, the night is like a rose that has wit...

     Suddenly another year has passed. Many people have changed, some becoming long-lost friends, while two important figures have entered my life. Suddenly, I feel a heavy burden on my shoulders. I can no longer nonchalantly hum that song from my youth.     My father, who has worked far from home for decades, has returned to his hometown, looking much more haggard and aged, his temper suddenly much gentler. Decades of wandering may have smoothed out his restless heart.     My younger sister is busy delivering apples on Christmas Eve, buying countless paper boxes. Suddenly, I feel truly old, so old that I've forgotten the days in high school when apples were five yuan each and people lined up to buy them like crazy. Every day, the     village loudspeaker is announcing that those who deposit money in that private bank should register and petition. I don't know what the outcome will be, but suddenly many people on welfare have produced hundreds...

     Today, as usual, I got up around 7 a.m., went to work at 8 a.m., skipped breakfast, and floated into the office, clearly trembling slightly. Who would imagine that yesterday morning around 4 a.m., I only managed to fall asleep by imagining the ocean waves, sleeping for a little over three hours in total? No wonder I was trembling! My punctual biological clock wouldn't let me stay in bed, so I got up as usual.     I thought that having gotten used to coffee, I wouldn't easily experience insomnia again. I read in the bookstore until after 9 p.m., finishing the love song, "Already unable to extricate herself, trapped in endless dreams, she knew the ending herself. But in her heart, it was already filled with Ye Lang's image, leaving no room for anyone else. She preferred to believe in miracles, that perhaps one day he would belong to her." After that, I couldn't concentrate on the novel anymore. I read a book about the world's top perfumes; turns out I o...

     Here, I just want to speak clumsily, to express some silly admiration and longing.     Since when did I begin to get used to being alone, lonely, and lost, and also used to smiling warmly at these times, laughing out loud? Since when did I begin to get used to wearing tattered clothes, not caring if I didn't attract the girl I liked, and getting used to others ordering my favorite taro milk tea at the bubble tea shop where I work part-time, holding the girl I like, sharing a sip, saying what I want to say, singing my favorite songs, and smiling gently at these times, offering blessings?     My admiration is too distant. Perhaps in this life, I will always just be a shadow of the world. Quietly watching, quietly walking away. A faint sadness, a gentle smile. If longing had a color, then my longing would be a deep blue, permeating the clear sky with a bittersweet taste that penetrates the heart.     A friend once said that maybe one day sh...

     After dinner, I stepped into the silent twilight. Following the guidance of my heart, I walked from darkness to light, and from light to the distance, believing that God's holy grace awaited me at the end!     Barefoot, I felt the breath of Mother Earth on my path forward; this nurturing warmth and confidence is the green nutrient a child needs to grow. My soul was running free, eagerly bursting forth from above, like a wild horse breaking free of its bridle, tirelessly galloping towards the ever-expanding dark grassland. Its iron hooves were to leave the first hoofprint on the long, new grass touched by spring rain! Its bright eyes were to catch the first splendid flower! Its sense of smell was to inhale the first floating fragrance!     My steps continued, creating a different scene. The crisp chirping of the daytime followed the setting sun into the twilight. Birds returning to their nests at dusk could now peacefully close their weary eyes, dr...

     I remember five years ago, when I was about to leave Kunming, a sense of loss and melancholy lingered on my face, trailing a long shadow behind me as my suitcase dragged along the ground. Saying goodbye to this city, my eyes were filled with a deep, reluctant longing.     I loved you so deeply, as deeply as I loved the moon over my distant hometown. Four years have passed, and I've grown accustomed to your bustling pace, to the city's oppressive, huddled atmosphere. I love the snowy winters here, the cherry blossoms dancing in the snow, like myself, fragile yet proud. I love the atmosphere emanating from the not-so-spacious buses, a unique scent belonging to this city. I love the boys in the city center playing guitar and singing, and those boys with colorful headscarves riding BMX bikes—that's the city's youth and vitality.     I'm captivated by the vibrant nightlife under the neon lights, and I equally love the view of the vast, misty Dianchi La...

     Actually, this is just me, not what you think.     I admire the profusion of blossoms on a tree, singing praises of their vying beauty. But what I truly love is the wild lily blooming alone in the valley. I would bend down to smell her, listen to her whispers in the night, and kiss the teardrops in her petals.     Because she is as lonely as I am, as far removed from the world as I am.     I have always been this kind of person. Whether melancholy or resentment, there is little sunshine in my heart. I fear the world of solitude, I fear facing the dark night alone, always entangled by those inexplicable thoughts, slowly, slowly, being pulled into an abyss.     Nostalgia is a very subtle emotion. Some people and some events from those times play out in my mind like scenes from a movie. However, we are often easily buried by the tide of the past. The happy moments make us linger but we can't go back, the sad moments make us regret...

     As loneliness descends with the night, sorrow flows like a river, rampant and unrestrained, desperately trying to break free from its prison. I listen to the winds of time, howling past me, their mournful cries like midnight ghosts surveying every restless soul. I want to shout, even if it's just a hysterical scream.     That belated spring will never come again. That was our bravest season; we fought so hard for love, yet ultimately failed to reach that initially envisioned destination. That flower, finally blown away by the wind on the road to happiness, turned to dust and never to be seen again.     Spring flowers, petal by petal, bloom in vibrant competition, eager to reveal all the beauty of spring in a single glance, even though most of the time they bloom alone in deserted fields or remote, quiet valleys. You said you were waiting for someone who could understand you, to let your fleeting beauty shine.     I remember that day, I w...