Some people choose to close their books tightly and let the book dusty, just because one page is broken.
The excuses are diverse but the point is that it’s because of the death of happiness, the smiles that fading away.
I choose to keep making my fingers open the next page, without having to think about what will be written there.
The book I have is not smooth either, it is also filled with bad pages and feels like : ‘ Ah, I don’t want to read it again.’
And here comes a new person, and my immediate thought is it looks like she’s the one who’s going to put some bright strokes in this dry and boring book.
Being with her is always fun, like finding a new life.
It’s like a happy child running through the streets full of twinkling lights.
It feels like a person recovering from an unavoidable illness.
It was like sailing the wide ocean with joy, even though I was so afraid of water.
It feels like I’m always breathing fresh air, even though I’m in a crowded space.
And no matter what happens, if you end up as a broken page, let me forever feel the bitterness, because a good memory — will forever remains good.
Thousands of memories in the head, but now feels different, missing you seems easier than breathing.
You even looked good in the pouring rain!
Thank u for saving me.
