Unfinished Book

The year we met, I was seventeen years old, in the middle of my young and ignorant sophomore year in high school. Mr. Z was eighteen years old, and was the first ray of light that broke into my dark years. We started from an accidental meeting in the winter in Chongqing City, from the gentle compliment at the bus stop, from the day and night companionship across the screen, and completely delivered the purest and most passionate youthful heartbeat to each other. Time goes by and the years change. Seven years have passed by, and the once reckless and youthful young girl has grown up quietly. Now I am twenty-four years old, and Mr. Z is twenty-five years old. During these seven long years, we have repeatedly entangled, separated and reunited, experienced the tenderness of staying together in the same city, survived the concern of seeing each other across the city, and also endured countless quarrels, cold wars, awkwardness and separation. We spent all the sincere joy, paranoia, stubbornness, sensitivity and duplicity of our youth in each other's years. Countless late nights, I can't help but look back at this past and ask myself over and over again. If when we were young we were less stubborn and willful and more tolerant and conciliatory; if we were less self-stubborn and more empathic and gentle and considerate, would this relationship that lasted throughout our youth survive the long distance and run-in and have a gentle and happy ending, instead of ending in such a hasty manner with only regrets now? Later, I finally understood that in this life, people always like to subconsciously beautify the unfinished road. We imagine over and over again the perfection that has never happened, to fill up the disappointment and regret in reality, and to comfort the lingering feelings in our hearts. But there is never a chance to start over in life, and the story will eventually come to an end. Those first heartbeats hidden in the wet and cold winter wind of Chongqing City, those tenderness and tenderness carried by the evening breeze on Binjiang Road, those joyful expectations of teenagers looking at each other across the street, those cares and entanglements across mountains and seas, year after year, have run through my entire youth. Today, I choose to gently let go of all obsessions, reconcile with the past, and say goodbye to our young self. The long seven-year love did not have a happy ending, but it did have an ending that was long overdue. At this point, all preference and persistence have come to an end, bringing a gentle and complete end to this vigorous and regretful youth. Purpose: When you are in love, you need to understand each other's perspective and be tolerant of each other. Don't miss your lover because of your stubbornness at a young age, leaving you with lifelong regrets.