When I thought about it, I didn't feel happy, just empty.
That emptiness urgently needed something to fill the void.
Quietly, she became addicted to cigarettes again.
It seemed like only when she was smoking, her mind could go blank, without needing to think about anything, and without needing to be heart-wrenching.
She was almost thirty years old now, and when things happened, she naturally wouldn't be as reckless as when she was young. All her emotions seemed to have gradually been exhausted over the years; even if her heart broke, it wasn't the earth-shattering event she once imagined.
She used to think that falling in love with someone meant that losing him would mean dying with him, but in reality, it was not like that at all.
She lived well, traveling far and wide, eating three meals a day, indulging in revelry.
