Yes, you were young then and you believed in dreams. Love is the most beautiful of those dreams.
Chase, keep running. Time flies and you are old. You can't even remember what that person looks like, you cry.
But in the depths of the heart, there is a wall with the face of your youth painted on it.
Blurred and clear, tears wet his eyes from the stinging pain.
So, hold your head up, keep going, and run hard.
Dreams are not so much to achieve, but to chase, right?
Or, it's just that the old self is chasing the young man in his heart, the young man who may never have existed.
Perhaps the so-called dream is an ideal country that can never be achieved. To be able to stare is the only happiness.
We were born to run hard.
Pain and happiness.
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