In the middle of the night someone called me. It turned out to be someone from the past. He said, "I have something important to tell you". "What?" I asked gruffly.
"I apologize for what I did in the past", he pleaded languidly.
My memory drifted across the years that had passed. I searched for you. It's empty. There is no memory left of you there. I don't know what you apologized for. It's useless. Even if you regret it in the end. I forgave you without knowing anything. I thought, ah, let it be. Let it be over quickly. I don't want to deal with you, a past that no longer exists in my memory.
Damn indeed. Everything about you smoothly flows into writing. It turns out that there is one thing I remember about you. In the past, I poured everything into writing that never reached its master. Even though I've written very much and long. It was useless, it never reached the person I really hoped to read it.
