There is a kind of pessimism that thinks that beautiful things are only in a short moment. The ebb and flow of the tide, the flowers blooming and fading, the end of the song and the dispersing of people, every extreme beauty will eventually wither, wither, and die. I would rather stay away, refuse to enjoy the short-lived beauty, than see the results of sorrow.
At least, I was so close to that beauty, that kind of feeling will always be in my heart, and the aftertaste is endless.
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