Let me be a specimen in the thickest book by your bed. Pick it up in the most blooming or the tranquility before the storm. I'll put those flavors I've carved into your memory and put it in a random page. I'm also wasting it. It's been a long time before I can tell you the location of the gardenia tree. Sometimes I feel that I am gradually getting a sense of satisfaction from my self-suppression. Sometimes I feel that everything is a false sense of loneliness. Sometimes people are inexplicably happy, sometimes people want to die in place Although sometimes I'm lonely like an ant on a hot pan Sometimes I want my life to freeze at this moment, so you can live my age shortened countless seasons we staggered, everything seems to have grown tentacles trying to search for you So let me be a snail. Realize that there is danger ahead. Whether it's escaping, selfishness or self-deception Broken and windy, but one corner is small and light may be enough
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