You never said 'I love you,' and I've always said 'I'm willing'
One, we are all such pitiful people, loved ones not received, received not cherished, together doubted, lost missed, missed wanting to meet, meeting regretting it, throughout a lifetime, full of regrets.
Twenty-two, I want to go and embrace you, even if mountains and rivers block the way, wind and rain, long distance and horses, I can overcome all the dangers to find you. You know I've never feared to pursue, only you didn't love me, making me have no courage to take a step.
Twenty-three, I haven't disappointed you, I'm just disappointed in love, it's too different from what I imagined, besides 'waiting,' it's only endless anxiety and insecurity.
Twenty-four, the difference between lies and vows is that one is believed by the listener, and the other is believed by the speaker.
Twenty-five, I've also tried to humbly plead, but that method is like a dying cancer patient's wish for a quick recovery—it only adds to the sadness and mockery, with no use.
Twenty-six, don't drink more than six minutes drunk, don't eat more than seven minutes full, don't love someone more than eight parts of emotion, but most people often drink too much and eat too much, then become foolishly in love.
Twenty-seven, you never said 'I love you,' and I said 'I'm willing' all along.
Twenty-eight, you said you loved me, but you never thought about giving me a home. You said I was your world, but in the end, I was still a wanderer.
Twenty-nine, those easily betrayed are always those naive and soft-hearted people. After all, it's easy to be deceived and easily taken advantage of; a healed wound quickly forgets the pain.
Thirty, our relationship is like a medium-rare steak—it looks delicious, but when you bite into it, you can still see the blood. But it's not alive, just not fully cooked.
