When people drink too much, they all become a bit hazy. Some sing love songs loudly, likely troubled by love; others fall into deep sleep. Looking at their darkened faces, one can tell Life has not been easy for them. Although everyone appears different in that moment, there is still a sense of familiarity. Yet I still feel somewhat out of place in such scenes. Unable to drink along, I simply wish them smooth work, good health, and a bright future.
Tears are shed to remember someone; trying hard to remember someone is a way of reminding oneself that there was at least one person worth crying for in life.
The most heartless is not people, but time; the most precious is not money, but opportunity; the most powerful is not a boss, but nature; the most terrifying is not disaster, but helplessness; the most skilled observer is not an expert, but a bystander; the most painful is not heartbreak, but emotional damage; the most comfortable place is not a hotel, but home; the harshest sound is not profanity, but silence; the widest space is not the sea, but the heart; the most beautiful thing is not the future, but the present moment.
By savoring time and life, one gradually gains a clearer understanding of existence. Life is like a dream, and worldly ties are like flowing water—wind comes and goes, flowers bloom and fade. Longing once brought warmth, indifference once hurt tenderness, and time has diluted forever. What seems like persistent perseverance often ends in desolation; if one refuses to let go forever, such attachment may itself become unnecessary.