My parents died one after another when I was more than 2 years old. I lived with my grandma until I was 14, and she also left me. Before I was ten years old, I was like other children. I was cheerful, loved to laugh, and loved being with friends. Until one day, I told them that pencils, erasers, desks, and rulers were also my friends, and I had a very good relationship with them. Suddenly, those former friends looked at me very strangely, and swarmed around me like birds and beasts and fled in all directions. After that, whenever I passed by them, those people would whisper and jeer behind their backs. I have no friends in school, but I am not lonely. I still have friends that others cannot see, including flowers, trees, and telephone poles on the roadside. As I grow older, I gradually lose touch with real-life interpersonal interactions because I don't want others to look at me in a special way, as if I am an alien. I also developed some hobbies that do not require contact and communication with others, such as reading and sketching. I majored in "Criminal Psychology" in college. The first boy who broke into my life was a young policeman. I regarded him as a delinquent who followed young girls. My major and his career led us to work together to solve a murder. With constant contact and interaction, we walked into each other's hearts without knowing it. Not romantic enough, but sweet and warm is the norm.
I like the heroine!