2023.5.21

Fly me to the moon,
When listening to music, I realize I'm quite a boring person,
But I don't want to be seen through, so I disguise myself as an onion.
My love is not pure; it's filled with anxiety and resentment.

In front of her, it feels like all my base instincts are exposed,
All my efforts seem to seek rewards,
It even makes me question, is this true love?
If it is, is it a good kind of love?

I like to leave with a no regrets, no turning back attitude,
But the answer always needs verification.
The past was incredibly lucky and incredibly simple.

But from this moment, it's no longer the same,
Even after verification, I still can't be entirely sure.
I don't understand why an answer about my own feelings
Requires an outsider's guidance.

It's not about being unable to see,
But about not wanting, fearing, uncertainty.
An answer I didn't wish for is hiding behind the door,
So I hide behind the door too.

Leaving behind an ever-expanding jungle of doors,
Afraid to seek an answer,
I'm convinced that the person behind the door not coming out
Is the answer itself.