Do you know the difference between love and love?

I like to think of him suddenly when I read a book late at night, imagine what he is doing now, and there is a flutter of warmth in his heart, but he never calls him actively.

A few minutes later, attention was drawn again to the plot in the book.

  Love is in the lonely night, and my thoughts are flowing like a tide, but I ca n’t see it when I try to hold the book. I wonder whether he is still working overtime at this time, whether he ‘s eating dinner or not.With yourself.

  He likes to talk with him and talk with each other. He refuses to give up. He never admits defeat like a hedgehog in front of him, but in his heart he has long admired his insight and his talent.

  Love is to hope that he is in step with his own heart and connected with his heart. A joke that he has no intention of saying can also make him feel depressed or even tearful for a while.

In front of him, he was never armed.

  I like to go out and send him a text message to tell him that the weather is good here, and then turn his hands off and play crazy for a week alone in a different place, and suddenly appeared in front of him to scare him.

  Love is hoping to be with him wherever he goes.

You can stand at the beach and call him on the cell phone to let him hear the sound of the waves; or you can stand still for a long time because you see a back-like figure on the street in a foreign land.

  Like it is that he simply said “all the way” before going on a business trip. Looking at the back of his departure, he felt a little bit reluctant, but said nothing, just waiting for the news of his return silently.

  Love is that he is doing everything before his business trip, stuffing his backpack with clothes and food, and waiting at the station until the train leaves before leaving.

And in the days after he left, he was restless every day, praying over and over again that he could return safely.

  I like it when I am injured, I don’t want him to see his fragile side, and quietly wipe away the tears in front of him, turning his head still is a happy and strong look.

  Love is crying in front of his chest when he is aggrieved, without pretending and worrying, telling him all his troubles, and longing for comfort from his embrace.

  I like to eat KFC with him tired from shopping on the weekend; grab a cup of hot coffee with him in the cold winter; walk side by side in the middle of the street with a distance of half a meter; accompany him to fight in front of the computerTwo people laugh like children.

  Love is to use his half-day to make a few good meals on the weekend to satisfy him and eat it; to continue to add hot water to his coffee cup in the cold winter; and to walk on the street with him and let him hold on tightlyHis own hand; doing quietly beside him, looking happily at his concentration while working at the computer.

  I like to hear him talk about his childhood funny things, and then laughed, an inexplicable touch in my heart.

  Love is to listen to the fun of his childhood, and then smile a little, more pity in this man who was so naughty in front of him.

  I like to meet him in the corridor, and say hello to him happily, and then simply say a few words of shame. When I pass by, I see the bright sunshine outside the window, and I feel better for no reason.

  Love saw him in the corridor, and the shell made a careless expression, but when she passed by, she felt the trembling air carefully, so she couldn’t help looking back.

  I like to see him and another girl walking hand in hand with a little pain in my heart, but I will soon raise a smile again towards Chaoyang.

  Love is a game that can’t afford to lose. After you give it all, there may be a scar left in your heart.

  I like someone because I want him to be my own, so I can like many people and want many people to be my own.

  Love is clearly inseparable from him, but he has to give up on him, because maybe he can’t give me the happiness he wants.

I dare not occupy him, hoping to see him find happiness, even if that happiness is not shared with me.

  I like it. I hope to talk to someone when I’m lonely, when I’m bored, and when I’m sad.

  Love is that he wants to share with him at all times, and even hopes to give him all happiness when he is happy.

When he was there, he was alone in his eyes; when he was away, everything carried his shadow.