Everything hurts, of course.
But you hurt the most.
I underestimated your significance - instead of a soft killing, you are a dagger, twisting, twisting into the depths of a heart.
The night is a ritual - I think of you, I miss you, I hate you, I resent ever knowing you… I sigh because I cannot help but yearn. (This longing is a burden to carry.)
They tell me I'm daft about you but is it really all that simple?
I look for you in books and songs and wonder if a story as miraculous could ever be created between us.
I look for you in oceans of other people. I don't care if it is becoming obvious, as long as all I can see is you.
(I have learnt to find you - 你的背影 在人山人海中都能认清)
I am trying not to seem desperate, but if you are the devil, then every deal I make and everything I lose will be worth it.