How heartbreaking is it, really, to have a secret crush on someone? The feelings you can't speak aloud hurt the most.

A secret crush is a one-person war.

Even when covered in wounds,

it's still a pain you can't put into words,

and you can only quietly clean up the battlefield alone.

How heartbreaking is it, really, to have a secret crush on someone?

Only those who have been through it know!

Occasionally sneaking a peek at his Weibo, his Moments - except this "occasionally" means the moment you open your eyes in the morning, on the way to school, at lunch, in the elevator, and the last second before bed.

What did you eat this morning?

What did you do this morning?

What are you planning to eat for lunch?

What are you planning to do this afternoon?

What are you eating for dinner?

What time do you go to sleep?

What are you planning to do tomorrow?

He's like a WiFi with a very strong signal, but you don't know the password.

The more you try to run away, the closer you get; the more you turn your face away, the clearer every cell of his becomes.

All my fantasies are about him.

From a single punctuation mark of his, I read a prose piece full of twists and turns.

Our exercise books were placed together today, and I felt incredibly happy.

He's just an idiot.

Every word he says is like a college entrance exam reading comprehension passage.

Every night before bed I have to visit his page, then quietly delete the visit record.

I never had him for even a second. Yet it feels like I've lost him millions of times.

Afraid she'll find out, afraid she won't find out, afraid she'll pretend not to know.

To keep others from noticing that I treat him especially well, I can only be good to everyone.

When I see him walking over, I want to hide; when I watch him walk away, I want to chase after him.

My diary has become your biography.

Every stroke of your name stirs my heart.

Every time I say I'll give up, the next second I can't bear to.

Before bed, I scroll back and forth through our chat history.

Every word I write is you, yet every word you write is not me.

I want to talk to you, but I'm afraid you'll find me annoying.