For an hour and a half, watching this innocent face was sometimes filled with tears, sometimes gloomy, and my heart was still clenched, but the smile at the end could resolve all the sorrows.
She wants me to learn to be happy.
When one day, learn to love yourself, learn to comfort your sorrows, learn to dispel the haze with a smile, warm the cold with enthusiasm, and learn not to worry about those who care about you, that is probably called maturity.
What if ponette lived her whole life holding her face like this? Maybe I will start to hate her delicate and lovely face, maybe her mother in heaven will also be depressed, and her company that day will probably be very worthless.
Some people's unhappiness is real, while others' unhappiness seems to be enjoying it. This is the only wish that all friends who are indulging in sadness can learn to be happy and mature.
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