18 years old for me.

Waiting is a physical activity.

You wake up and see mosquitoes rising up and down the ceiling, like new spots of gray.

Footsteps came from the corridor and passed outside your door.

You see the sun shining on the edge of the edges, can't tell whether it is early morning or dusk.

A pigeon stopped on the balcony, and the balcony was full of clothes that had not been collected for a long time.

mixed with dirty, lazy and depressed smell in the bedroom, you are enough to get used to, do not disagree.

You are always wandering, this day is going to pass, everyday ah, just like this.

But the people you waited for didn't come.

18 years old for me.