know by oneself whether it is cold or warm

BEFORE

The past is like the wind, scattered in my memory

Actually, I don't remember everything so clearly.

With the passage of time

The promises once were gradually distorted.

Sometimes I ask myself, am I still me?

ALWAYS

Every day I write some words in my diary.

Record what happened in the past

It shows more or less sadness and depression.

But after all, those have become the past of youth.

I choose to let it go.

STILL

Learn to love, love is always sweet

After tasting it, I always worry that it will be exaggerated by the bitterness

So you're afraid of losing.

Love is beautiful, always expecting flowers to bloom

But forget, no matter how beautiful flowers can not escape the season

Unwittingly

Some missed scenery has become a defect of time.

There is not only a touch of attachment that passes by.

Unintentional injury

Created a kind of cruelty.

Inadvertently touched, only to find that once I was so stupid.