Several essays were smashed into mud and ground to ashes.

I stood under the street lamp. With light. Look at that mottled shadow, that's me. I held out my hand. Let the light pass through your fingers. There will be a burning feeling. When the heart is cold, the touch of the fingertips becomes sensitive.

I walk along the street. Go straight. There is no direction. I think. If there is a person. Just stop me suddenly. I stood at the crossroads and watched the time go by. Night arrival. Where can the heart go when the light is on?

I am looking forward to it. I never got it, so I had to go alone. In this noisy world, going in and out. Looking forward to it, but I can't get sunshine.

I closed my eyes gently and counted silently. I just wanted to count to 10, but I counted to 100. I opened my eyes and still lost. It turns out. I am so naive.

Is it possible not to wait? Wait a little longer. My heart is going to rot. And I'm ... just an ordinary person. What cannot be broken is the world of mortals.

I really want to ask "why". But it's hard to say. There are so many "why". Asking only makes people sick. All right. I won't say anything. No more questions.

Usually. Tears are a tool for me to express my feelings, and I am moved. Want to cry, sad. Cry, my tears are cheap. So ... I cried. My heart hurts more.

Later, I stopped crying. I can finally laugh. Even though my heart hurts. Just smile and laugh. It makes my face wrinkled.

Don't know how to cherish-lose people's hearts, love mistakes-lose time. Next step, next step, how should I go.

When you are lonely. Want to sing. Open your mouth. I found that I can't sing. So ... when I'm lonely. What else can I do?

Lonely, just go out for a walk alone, look at the sky, the clouds, the birds and the people. ...

I thought I wouldn't be lonely, but I've always been lonely. I thought I was not afraid of loneliness either, really. I'm used to loneliness. Accustomed to traveling alone in the dark.

Sometimes. The night is beautiful and intoxicating. Sometimes. The night is so deep that it seems to swallow people up.

I often think that this is what we call youth, fiery youth, chasing time and the future and leaving. Never come back. How I want to stop, look back and see the people around me.

Who can forget the injuries along the way? The old me. Live like a joke.

I have been running, just to find an ideal self. That ideal me, I am not shocked, the wind is light and the clouds are light, and I will not cry easily.

I hope so. One day. Push the door open. I can say, "Hi, how are you? I'm fine. "

-Record my senior year.