In the diary of youth, who has not written of pain? Yet, no one wishes to revisit it, for every turning of the page reveals unhealed scars that remind us of past sorrows and suffering. We may choose to forgive, but we cannot pretend not to see...
— Preface
Youth is an obscure diary, carried by time and driven by words, with lavender as its essence. We spin within the vortex of time, watching the years slip through our fingers. We have experienced reunions and partings, tasted the bittersweetness of life, and navigated the spectrum of emotions. As the banquet of youth draws to a close, we are left clutching our scribbled diaries, desperately piecing together fragmented memories and searching for blurred silhouettes in our minds, deluding ourselves into thinking that those people and those moments never truly faded...
Friendship is pure white; it offers us profound support when we are most lost, saddened, and helpless. Gradually, we begin to rely on it wholeheartedly. When we are weary, in pain, or exhausted, someone stands with us to shoulder the burden. True friendship is not the absence of conflict, but the ability to remain together after the storms. Yet, we often fail to offer our complete trust, guarding our friendships with such caution that we fear our only reliance might vanish. In this hesitation, we fail to grasp the true essence of friendship, and in our ignorance, the warmth slowly cools... We weep, curling up alone in corners, time and time again. Later, we learn to feign strength, to act nonchalant, and to hide our vulnerability behind smiles. We look up at the blue sky, forcing ourselves to ignore the heartache and suppress the tears, even as our hearts bleed. We begin to isolate ourselves, shielding our true selves and wearing masks, simply because we fear being hurt once more...
Perhaps behind a mask, we might miss out on something, but at least we will be less wounded. That is the self-deception we cling to...
Ultimately, we are timid creatures, fearing loss, fearing pain, and fearing parting.
As time flows, youth departs, and the flowers wither away...
