Night, just for my own peace and quiet.

     Life marches by, and we slowly transform day by day. In the unknowable passage of time, countless memories and profound souls have been eroded, leaving us seemingly numb.

    Society is an invisible, enormous dyeing vat, and we become unique protagonists, blooming in our own circles. We don't know when this will end, leaving behind so much confusion and bewilderment.

    Slowly, we begin to get used to the colors emerging from this vat, lost and unsure of the future. We become accustomed to our own changes, like how we slowly numb ourselves with alcohol when we're in a bad mood; only then do things begin to get better. Once upon a time, we hated ourselves, but now we've become this person, without surprise or opposition, just moving forward in a daze. We set our own direction, our own destination, willful and carefree… not wanting to bind ourselves forward, but the road ahead is unknown, and confusion permeates every corner of life.

    Sometimes, I feel I've had enough of the drama and it's time to calm down, but in the quiet, I feel so utterly alone, the empty room filled with an invisible loneliness. At such moments, I laugh at myself.

    Late at night, the city's hustle and bustle slowly fades. After a busy day, I'm so clear-headed at this moment. This vast city can't accommodate those who dream. When the morning light shines through the window screen, illuminating our momentary confusion, we laugh, so unwilling to accept it. Why, after experiencing so much, are we still standing still, only our lonely figures moving forward?

    Walking alone through the city's alleys, how much helplessness and indifference are in my eyes? How many people can understand? Hurrying along, I drag my weary body back to this familiar little house once more. It seems only this house, filled with my soul, can quietly respond to all my feelings, as quiet as a devout believer, staring blankly at the ceiling, my wandering gaze indulging in all my willfulness and resentment.

    My heart slowly calms down. This moment belongs only to myself. Only in this moment can our souls stroll forward with smiles, wanting nothing more than a sense of peace. But who can afford such a luxurious dream? Reality fills every crack in life with constraints. The world of fairy tales is just a shattered dream. When the dream ends one day, everything is just the past. Just like what we can't overcome, what's past, will become the past. Time falls silent at that moment. No one speaks. We are all just someone's past. Do you really not remember?

    Time is the most potent poison. In our busy lives, we forget all the fairy tales. Is the river that has filtered out the sand still as clear as a mirror? Such questions are said to leave a sense of helplessness and emptiness for the years, just like leaving a blank space for ourselves. The beginning and the end of all stories are only told to ourselves. Only the inner soul can face it alone. At this moment, the heart is the purest and most authentic.

    Life gives you a blank space, a space where only you can truly understand yourself in that moment. In the flow of time, we remain quietly silent, telling life that there's always a field where no one can enter or plant anything—this is your own personal space in life, blooming only for your beloved self.

    The night is quiet only for yourself…

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