在大自然的怀抱中，我仿佛是一只鸟，充满了警觉，不容易停留。所以一直在飞。在空气中振动的是我的翅膀，那是一种喧嚣而凛冽的声音，一种不确定的归宿的流动。我总是感到迷茫，因为我觉得我们的付出得不到应有的回应，就像泥牛入海一样。总觉得我们离成功的殿堂很远很远，没有过尽千帆的翅膀，所以只得仓皇逃离。

我努力寻找希望，深怕幸运就在身边，却被我粗心错过。我问自己：有谁能够挽留住那些花朵？听任淡淡的清香揪心的惆怅。是否也在回忆那淡淡的雨夜，那盈盈的绿叶？而我终是做着这个世上最无聊之事，闲看花开花落，徒留伤心往事。

一个女子的心情就是这样的不堪一击，如果一个男人对我伸出手，如果他的手指是热的，他是谁对我其实已经并不重要。一直于不能很好的感受到一些生活中的幸福快乐有些迷茫，有些担心，希望自己能好好的走下去吧，以后真的要自己一个人了，一個即将步入社會的人心底的一點感触。

像我这样的女人，总是以一个难题的形式出现在感情里。当想流泪的时候，我抬头望一望天空，眼泪就不会流下来了。总有太多の無奈圍繞著身旁，让我們無盡感傷或許只有學會放棄才能讓人不再彷徨。

人對清澈見底的事物往往不再尊重與欣賞，而只會對冰山上的那粒塵埃表示遺憾。如果夢想不可擁有，我沉迷注定錯過，我又失去了什麼？I don't dare know. I only know, I am growing, but very confused. One day after another, is it walking towards destruction? I don't know.

I am like the message in a bottle floating at sea, with a bright future ahead but no way out. Emotions sometimes are just an individual thing. And any person is irrelevant. Love or not to love can only be decided by oneself.

The blue-gray smoke envelops me as the silver-white dawn appears before my eyes, shrouding everything in mistiness when the sun rises. Then how many more times will I watch flowers bloom and fade? How much time do we have left for this life of ours that isn't filled with occasional sadness? Perhaps happiness is too simple so it's easy to break.

Some people say that when one is lost in thought and wandering aimlessly like a ship without direction in thick fog; yet still drifting on and on, hoping to see through the haze and find their own destination.

Every time when I gaze upon those faces full of anxiety or tranquility; every time when I peer into those noble or humble hearts. My heart becomes restless and uneasy then worries about what others may think or feel about us all along.

My world is silent and void of sound; unable to accommodate anyone else within its boundaries.

Perhaps love exists because of loneliness. We need someone to love even if there's no end result from it either way—no matter whether it ends well or poorly.

When you're happy enough to laugh aloud but find yourself unable to smile truly happy smiles nor cry true tears during times meant for sorrow—when trust fails—then what remains?

We search for something other than solitude—a person perhaps—or a place where our happiness lies amidst life's journey—but we haven’t found it yet...

Love doesn’t carry any purposeful intention—it’s simply because you do...