Twenty-Two Heartbeats She Didn't Know About

On the first day of high school, her name was on the ninth row and his was on the twenty-first row on the class ranking list. There are eleven names in between. He counted the eleven names once and again. He used to sit in the back row of the classroom. He talks very little, his grades are above average, he doesn't cause trouble, and he doesn't stand out. No one celebrated his birthday until he was seventeen, and the first thing he learned was to stay out of trouble. She is a different kind of person. On the first day of school, she wiped her desk twice. If she didn't throw the paper ball into the trash can, she walked over, picked it up, and threw it in again. Twenty-two heartbeats, not twenty-two confessions. It was he who stretched out his hand again and again and took it back again and again. It is through the light of another person that in the long days, I try to put myself back to my original position piece by piece. Many years later, he received an invitation from Po City. He began to write. Write about the tissue paper that was not handed out, the words that were not spoken, and the like that I did not dare to click. This is a very slow story. There were no ups and downs, nor heartbreaking. Like the plum rain in June in the south, it falls silently. By the time you notice, your clothes are already damp. Some lights are not meant to be approached. It is used to light the way. Concept: This is not a story about getting. Teenagers who grow up in an emotional vacuum can easily form the illusion that they are only successful if they are chosen by someone. So he regarded the other person as light and proof. The twenty-two heartbeats were his repeated temptations, withdrawals, confirmations and releases between being loved and loving himself. He thought he was waiting for a chance to speak, but in fact he was confirming over and over again whether he was qualified. What this book wants to write about is how he dismantled this equation. Being loved is luck, and self-love is ability. The two things cannot offset each other. A person's value does not depend on whether he is chosen, nor should he ask for the share owed by his family of origin from anyone who comes later. Therefore, regret here does not lead to resentment, but to gentle farewell; secret love does not lead to possession, but to acceptance of one's own imperfections. He may not get that light in the end. He simply acknowledged that it had touched him and moved on with that acknowledgment. True adulthood is not gained, but recognized. Admit your mistakes, admit your cowardice, admit that some people can only accompany you for a certain distance. Then he took the pen back into his own hand and drew an end to the past. It's not a period given by others, it's drawn by yourself.