In the diary of youth, who has not recorded pain? Yet no one is willing to easily flip through it, for every review reveals scars that have not yet healed. They silently remind us that those sorrows and pains still exist. We can choose to forgive, but it is difficult to truly ignore them...
—Epigraph
Youth is an obscure and difficult diary to understand. Time is its carrier, words are its master, and that purple lavender is its truest background. We are always spinning in the vortex of time, watching it slip away between our fingers, coming and going. We have experienced the joys and sorrows of parting and meeting, tasted the sweet and bitter of life, gone through the highs and lows of emotions, and hummed the prelude to the end of youth. In the end, we can only tightly hold those diaries written at random, desperately piecing together fragmented memories in our minds, striving to find those blurred silhouettes, self-deceptively telling ourselves that those people and those things are not yet truly the 'past'...
Friendship is white. It gives us the greatest support when we are most lost, most heartbroken, and most helpless. Gradually, we begin to rely on this strength with our whole hearts. When we are tired, in pain, weary, or drowsy, there is always someone to shoulder the burden with us. In fact, true friends are not those who never argue for a lifetime, but those who, after arguing, are still willing to accompany each other for a lifetime. However, we often cannot give each other complete trust; we always carefully guard this bond, fearing that one day this sole reliance will also dissipate. Thus, we fail to comprehend the true essence of friendship, always being cautious and apprehensive. Gradually, we become tired and begin to seek our original support, only to realize that that warmth has gradually cooled in our ignorance... We cried, once again curling up alone in a corner, burying our heads in tears, again and again. Later, we learned to pretend to be strong, learned to act carefree, and learned to hide our vulnerability with a smile. Looking up at the blue sky, we forcibly hold back tears from welling up, forcing ourselves to ignore the feeling of heartache, letting our hearts bleed internally. We began to close ourselves off, stowing away our sincerity and wearing masks, simply because we fear being heartbroken again and being hurt again...
Perhaps, wearing a mask will cause us to miss many things, but at least we won't be hurt too deeply. We comfort ourselves in this self-deceptive way...
We are ultimately timid, fearing loss, fearing pain, and fearing separation.
