When I was in middle school, I liked to stand in the corridor blowing the wind and looking up at the classroom upstairs, because that was the class where the girl I liked was in.
I knew I was different from everyone else, but I never concealed it. My blatant crush really gave my teacher a headache, but I never felt there was anything wrong with me, and my behavior was very high-profile. As a result, my middle school years evolved into a complex story. Every friend who experienced it with me told me to write down the story, otherwise it would be a pity to forget it. For onlookers, it is indeed a good story, but for me, the person involved, it is actually full of pain. The realistic ending is not a happy one. Maybe the ending of the story will be happy... Or, I am still trying to create that happy ending.
I have been working hard to make the wind stop, but to this day, the wind is still blowing...