This text is a fragmentary message I wrote to my youth.
It's about a secret love I had in the first grade of junior high school, which later turned into love, and then nothing happened. Doing the math, it actually spanned seven years from being tempted to letting go.
There are no earth-shattering plots, just trivial things: peeking at him secretly in class, crying secretly when being transferred from a group, mustering up the courage to ask him to make up lessons, and the silly confession after the high school entrance examination and the kiss on the bench. There were also particularly sweet moments, such as when he came to comfort me in the rain, his unshakable phone calls every day when we were away from home, and when he saw me changing my avatar, his eyes turned red and he asked me if I didn't want him anymore.
But in the end they separated, and it was no one's fault. It was just the emotions of youth, distance and unspoken grievances that slowly wore away the passion.
Looking back now, it is like a candy wrapper I hid in my old diary. It was too sweet at the time, but later it became wrinkled, but I still couldn't bear to throw it away. Writing it down can also be considered as a formal ending to that fruitless heartbeat.
Intention: secret love