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When I was young and not ill, the campus life was full of colourful girls. I once lost my heart to those who had both inside and outside beauty, and my happiness was abundantly granted by this affection.
But now things have changed. I am suffering from mental illness and unable to play a role in the society. I don't have a job and my living is supported by my mother. Most critically, I am not good-looking. I don't have the immediate attraction for girls. I have no chance to meet with a girl who has any reason to love me, just because I am such a poor person. I don't even dare to watch TV series because too many of them contain love scenes which are enviable for me.
For long I've been obsessed in the problem of love. I used to try writing some love poems, which are sometimes reminiscence of the friendship with the girl I secretly loved, and sometimes the admiration for her whose name I didn't know. But it's just in vain like sending wishes to the moon.
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