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In youth
Now I understand myself

I’ve never felt that anything in this world truly belongs to me. The candy I clutched in my youth, melting in my palm, the sweetness fleeting in an instant;
The toys I once loved and couldn’t part with, covered in dust, forgotten in the corner of the storage room.
Later, as I grew up, I thought I had grasped something more important—passionate love, steadfast companionship, a glamorous identity. But when the wind blows, those solemn promises dissolve, the people walking alongside me diverge, and even the identities I hold are just specks of dust in the fleeting world.
I once believed that my parents’ protection was an eternal harbor, until I saw the white hair at their temples, and understood that time would take away all stable reliance;
I once thought that the books I read and the roads I traveled would become etched into my bones, but looking back, many details have already blurred, and those seemingly unbreakable memories are slowly fading with time.
Even this body cannot be considered fully owned. It will grow tired, age, bow in pain, and gradually lose its vitality in the passage of time.
We are merely borrowing it to walk this world, tasting the fireworks, experiencing joys and sorrows, and in the end, returning it to the years.
Gradually, I let go. It turns out that all things in the world are borrowed moments of light.
The passing wind, the admired moon, the people we meet—are gifts from heaven, with a time limit and a return date.
There’s no need to cling to the word “possess,” nor to dwell on what has gone.
In fact, the best state of life is not to hold on tightly, but to move forward lightly.
Carrying the joy of encounters, embracing the tenderness of passing moments, living earnestly every dawn and dusk, loving wholeheartedly.