In the past, when sad, I would find someone to confide in, speaking sentence after sentence; or I would cry my heart out, watching the sun set and rise again. Later, sadness was switched to silent mode. I didn't want others to see my fragility, so I pretended to be fine during the day and sat withered alone all night.

Only old friends could spot the clues and ask, "How have you been lately?"

You say, "Alright, just some things I can't figure out."

He asks, "What things?"

You say, "I don't know why things turned out like this."

Many years ago, someone said the same thing: "I don't know how it turned out like this."

We sat opposite each other, speaking comforting words, but the more we spoke, the more powerless we felt, until finally, only sighs remained between us. Because we always understood the logic, but when lost, reason never defeats emotion. To truly achieve those principles we already understood, we have to get beaten black and blue first.

He thought about traveling again, but had neither the excuse nor the funds to take a long leave. He couldn't go to the seaside, so he went to a nearby lake instead. The sunset was beautiful that day, dyeing the lake surface red; boats swayed in the water, and the lake water flowed toward the horizon.

But he still felt awful. Before he could speak, Yutou, who went with us, spoke up: "I understand. No matter where you go, you can still see her shadow."

My friend nodded first, then smiled, saying, "Sometimes I feel I'm being really melodramatic."

Yutou said, "That shows you are truly sad. The weight of sadness is the same, don't talk about yourself like that. Eight years—it's hard to just let go."

He asked, "How did you get over it back then?"

She replied, "Actually, I didn't do anything. The shadows of the past just get blurrier. You'll get busy, you'll experience greater pain, and eventually, you won't have time to feel sad. Occasionally remembering it is just remembering, like recalling a meal you once ate."

After speaking, she patted his shoulder and said, "Get busy."

I thought I should say something at this moment, so I said, "True forgetting is not constantly thinking about forgetting."

They both turned and glared at me simultaneously, their eyes saying: "It's fine if you write like that, but don't talk like that in real life. So cheesy!"

...Eh? Is it not okay if I say the same words? Forget it, who asked us to be friends? I'll tolerate it.

Later, we each got busy, and it was two years before we met again.

That day he said, "That year when I couldn't figure things out, I scolded myself every day, asking why I was torturing myself like that."

I asked, "Have you figured it out now?"

He said, "I can't say clearly if I have, but it doesn't affect me as much anymore. If there's a road under my feet, I walk forward. It's just that during that time, I wasn't willing to move forward myself."

I said, "Not willing to move forward is because you weren't willing to say goodbye. As long as you haven't said goodbye in your heart, it feels like everything can start over. But actually, that person has long walked away; we are all just clinging to the past. It's okay, look forward, new troubles will replace the old ones."

He smiled and said, "True."

So, how exactly do we get through loss?

When we were young, we cried our hearts out, did many things without response, and finally gave up. When older, working as usual and living as usual might be the optimal solution among all options. Being productive for one more second means being sad for one less second; being busy for one more minute means missing the past for one less minute.

Time flows as usual, and by the time you come to your senses, you are no longer where you started.

To those strangers who are currently lost.

That is all.

Wishing everyone good morning, good afternoon, and good night.