On the first day of junior high school, I met you.
Freshman year, I leave you.
Everyone thinks I admire you.
I like to see your smart eyes when you are doing the questions, I like to see your fingertips turning the pen when you are listening to the class, and I like to see your happy smile when you are eating.
You always like to hold my hand and lead me along, fingers intertwined.
But you always said that we will always be best friends.