Thoughts Across Distances
Some things are too far gone; don't dwell on them anymore.
It's just that the nights are too long, leading to more dreams. It's February, and the nights are always rainy, a persistent drizzle. Once, we lamented short vacations, but now that we've finally gotten our wish, we're complaining about boredom. It's hard to even write a few words when you're lying in bed. As I said, I probably can't write anything, and these days, most people only write framework-style exam essays. It's been so long since I've been able to write an exam essay, and I probably can't even do it now. Perhaps it's because I keep dreaming about you, which is why I can't bring myself to wake up. If only things could be as they were, how wonderful that would be.
People in their middle years shouldn't indulge in the youthful obsession; few are willing to dedicate their entire lives to something unattainable, and I am no exception. I'm just not yet accepting the devastation of reality, and occasionally, I still let small emotions get the better of me. I know that the past is like smoke, and everyone is striving, but you're stuck in place, falling behind. So I'm learning to adopt a mature appearance. But those past experiences keep appearing in my dreams – it's truly ironic, or perhaps a little shameful, a complex mix of emotions.
It's laughable for someone to wake up in the morning and refuse to leave their dream world. But no one knows that my fragmented pasts can only be seen when my eyes are closed. Youth is not inherently right or wrong; there's no debt to repay—it's all youthful exuberance.
