I miss you a little now.


        I want to know what life is like.

        Stereo, flat, or linear?  

        I want to know where happiness is. 

        In the fields, in the tall buildings, or in the clouds?

        I want to know what you are doing and what you think.  

        The rain still didn't stop, and occasionally the wind blew and some were cold.

        I leaned on the railing of the balcony and looked at my head to see when I could really get back to you. 

        I am tired of drifting, tired of tears, tired of missing, tired of being alone. 

        I don't know why I have to be an adult when I leave you. 

        I don't know why I am so sad when you want to end the call; I don't know why you never appear in my dreams. Obviously, I miss you so much.
       I don't know why I am so worried about you, afraid that the sun is too poisonous, your condition will increase; if the weather is too cold, you will catch a cold.
       I don't know why I think every wrinkle you look good. I don't know why I have such a deep obsession with the old photo frame. I don't know why I always resist the farewell.
       I don't know, I have to wait for a long time, I don't know, I have to become more excellent, can I really stop the pace of wandering, can really give you the most long-lasting companionship.   


        I remember every word you said, I am trying to take care of myself, don't be thin, don't be fat, don't get sick, don't be sad, don't be discouraged, don't quarrel, don't deceive, don't cry, don't cry... 

        I am growing up seriously, but you are getting older. 

        I beg for time, I beg for life, I beg God, I beg everything to beg. I hope that you can grow older and slower. I can grow up faster and grow up until you are relieved. We can grow together until we can share all the storms.  


        I don't want you to wait too long. 

        I don't want to love too little. 

        I want to go back to you, I want to hug you. 

        I want to drag the floor with you and put the utensils on the table neatly. I want to cook with you, and sprinkle green and green chopped green on each dish. 

        I want to fall asleep with you, put your head on your arm, and listen to your complaint that my head is too hard. I want to hold your arm, step on the fallen leaves, and walk in the afterglow of autumn. 


        I want to sit across from you and eat sour and spicy ramen with you. I want to hear you sing sweet songs; I want to hear you complain about my father's incompetence; I want to hear you talk about the past. 

        I want to tell you: I miss you, can't wait for every second. I want to tell you: I love you, and I am afraid that there will be no tomorrow.  


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