Of tears and promises

And I thought we had to spend our 15th month apart, inevitably. Me and my throbbing head, leaky nose and nausea attacks. You and your obligation as a filial son. But you had to prove me wrong.

Something hit a raw nerve, and made me want to cry like a lovelorn swallow.

我每次嫌棄自己有點矮時

你總會生我氣

因爲你不喜歡我這麽看不起自己

每次我朋友嘲笑我時 你總會生氣

因爲你不喜歡看到我被欺負

不過你總是爲了我，忍氣吞聲

你就是那麽愛我，那麽愛著我

And I still, and will always be that little girl, always armed with her bad tempers and complaints, and always ready to paw at you for what little attention you can afford. And like that angsty little boy with the foul mouth, I'll always be there to pat your back and be your comfort zone whenever you need me.

Happy 15th month. (or 456 days, as translated by you.)