That night, I was drunk, holding your hand, talking casually, concentrating my pent-up thoughts and expressing them crazily. My intoxicated eyes couldn't see your expression clearly, and I forgot how you would react at that time. I held your hand in the palm of my hand and mistakenly thought that you were not angry, so I thought that you would understand my good intentions. It was not until you turned around and left that you gradually realized what it was like for me to impose my world on you. Up to now, you have never mentioned the simple idea of talking to yourself to me. In your opinion, this is a joke, so I am very sad, although your fragrance still remains in my hands. If you don't know how many cups I drank that day, you won't understand how beautiful you really are. I won't believe that I loved you so simply when I first met you, but I believe that the feelings in my heart come so quickly and directly, even if my heart is wild, I can't put out the fire. I still believe that God let you meet me. If I didn't smell the perfume you left in my hand, I would never think about your beauty over and over again, smell your fragrance and wander in the lust of ice and fire. If God hadn't let fate tease me and remind me of you, I wouldn't be so heartbroken. I should forget you. This is the best punishment for impulse. This is the best punishment for impulse. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ agreed.