The festival is recorded on a certain day in mid-June

06.18.2021

Write a long but insincere card to my immediate senior who can't speak twice a year, but I don't even know when you graduate.

You didn't tell me, and I didn't ask again.

The reason I didn't ask is that I don't know what position I should use to ask you for this date. We're nothing more than a one-year, year-long friendship built on phantom circuits.

While I don't want to define it that way, I know it includes inseparable, connected, four hours a night -- but at the end of the day, it's just that, and it's not even that.

That alienation, like the abyss under the cliff, stretches between the two banks. Looking at the dark, empty nothingness below, I often wonder if we've ever existed before. But when I looked back, those days were well placed in the chat room, but it was dusty, and no one really left in my memory.

I often feel that if I don't say anything, my chest will burst, and my emotions will swell, but I can't say anything, and I don't even have the strength to snort.

Several moments of loneliness came over me like this, and I was often caught off guard and didn't plan to. Occasionally, I think that it doesn't matter if the days are suffocated day by day, because the struggle is just a futile continuation of floating and sinking.

How about an extra breath or two? It's just disappointment and pity for my little gift, it's not even hope, it's just another meaning of not dying.

In fact, I'm not quite sure what I'm talking about, and the nonsense is just to make myself feel better. It's like a mental patient just wants to communicate with the outside world. Forgive my broken sentences for being too incomprehensible.

Happy graduation, z, happy graduation.

I hope you will never meet someone like me again in your days north.

 PS:
What a coincidence! It was actually written on the same day last year!
I found that a lot of z-related creations have been released. Next time I have the opportunity to tell our story.