蔚然成风

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   What a terrible day. Every thing seems all right tonight. I cooked for him and chatted with you roommates. Until that unexpected call coming, every thing I felt was great. Then you preferred not to talk any more.

   I knew you got mad, but not what for. Few hours later, you told me that we would not grow old.

   What can I do？ You got mad and drove me crazy. The past has been out of touch, and I have no choice to tell you the fact. However you never get my idea. You told me you knew my heart so why not accepted the past. You know? I just wish you can accept my past instead of the kind of this mater. This model runs twice: you mad, I cried, then we made up. I have no idea that how many times of such tolerance that I can bear.

   Mad. A mad dog.