In the diary of youth, who hasn't left behind wounds? We simply refuse to flip through the pages, for the unhealed scars serve as constant reminders of past sorrow and pain. We may choose to forgive, but we can never truly ignore the memory.
Youth is an obscure diary where time is the medium, words are the guide, and lavender represents its essence. We drift through the vortex of time, watching the years slip through our fingers. We experience reunions and partings, taste the bittersweetness of life, and navigate through joy and sorrow. As the banquet of youth fades, we are left clutching our sketches, desperately trying to piece together fragmented memories and blurry silhouettes, deceiving ourselves into thinking that those people and those moments are not truly gone...
Friendship is pure white. In our most lost, saddened, and helpless moments, it offers the greatest support, leading us to rely on it wholeheartedly. When we are weary or in pain, someone is there to carry the burden with us. True friendship is not about never fighting, but about being able to stay together even after the arguments. Yet, fearing its disappearance, we protect it so cautiously that we fail to offer full trust. In our guardedness, we grow weary and seek our original solace, only to find that the warmth has quietly cooled in our ignorance. We find ourselves curled in corners, weeping once again. Eventually, we learn to feign strength and use smiles to mask our vulnerability. We look up at the blue sky, suppressing tears and forcing ourselves to ignore the heartache, eventually closing off our hearts and wearing masks, driven by the fear of being hurt again.
Perhaps wearing a mask means missing out on something, but we tell ourselves it is better than being wounded.
In the end, we are all cowards—afraid of loss, afraid of pain, and afraid of separation.
As time flows, youth fades, and the flowers wither...
