Every cloud has disappeared.

　　I've never understood why the diary format includes the weather.

　　Perhaps the person who invented this format is affected by the weather?

　　My mood, anyway, is dictated by the weather.

　　I just downloaded this app and couldn't wait to post something.

　　I need some fresh air.

　　This place seems bustling on the surface, yet also quite desolate. Everyone has their own thoughts, their own world.

　　Just like a thousand people, their diaries will inevitably be different.

　　I won't write a diary like a primary school student anymore, I won't complain about today's unpleasantness in my diary.

　　Today I carefully "took care" of the aloe vera and cactus on the balcony.

　　By "took care," I mean wiping the dust off the aloe vera leaves and cleaning the white pot of the white cactus.

　　In the overcast atmosphere, the aloe vera turned a vibrant green. The white pot was a bit glaring.

　　I remembered the spider plant I used to grow, also in a white pot.

　　But I can't keep it alive now, because I simply can't stay home every day.

　　I'm not a primary school student anymore.

　　My elementary school Chinese teacher said that growing up is a gradual process of leaving one's parents. In elementary school, children come home every day; in middle school, once a week; in high school, perhaps once a month; and in university, every two or three months. And after starting work and getting married, it goes without saying.

　　At dinner, my dad asked me if I wanted to find a mother figure.

　　I bit my chopsticks and murmured, "Whatever."

　　I remembered a passage written by August Chang'an: "He is not just a father; he also has the right to happiness."

　　There shouldn't be a moon tonight, but I suddenly thought of summer nights. No clouds in the sky, a few scattered stars, and a moon, sometimes crescent, sometimes full.

　　There would be a slight breeze, and if it had rained, it would be a little cool.

　　Even though it's cloudy, I feel like every cloud is lost and adrift.

　　Goodnight.