I have heard many people's youth stories over the years, and I feel that the stories in youth are generally similar. It wasn't until another boy who had nothing to do with me in my youth walked into my life that I was shocked to realize that those days in the past were just what I thought was youth.
There are too many things that I ruminate in my heart, and I can't find an outlet. That year, the boy who made me cry under the street lamp was because our friendship was threatened; that year, after school on Friday, the boy who didn't come when I waited until the sun set in my old place was because of a family emergency; that year, the boy who told me at the entrance of the old alley that chased me as soon as the college entrance examination was over was because he failed the college entrance examination and went to another place to repeat his studies...
These days, I am asking myself, did I really not have any doubts back then? Perhaps only for the person you like, you will find good things for him and believe all kinds of excuses, just to continue to like him.
Youth passed by in a flash, and I was sad and regretful. I asked the boy next to me: "Hey, if you could travel back to high school, would you give up liking her?" He said without thinking, "No, I will choose to continue to like her, because only by following this order will I meet you later."
What am I blaming? The love you feel when you are young and ignorant has nothing to do with gender or age. Some people think silently that it would be better if they never met, and some people regret meeting each other too late. But the order of appearances in life seems to run according to an almost fateful pattern. Perhaps an ending that is neither sad nor happy is a worthwhile acquaintance.
When the evening breeze rises gently, I look back at those years and feel grateful to meet each other in the sea of people. Meeting by chance is also the best arrangement.
Intention: Be grateful for meeting each other in the sea of people, and meeting by chance is also the best arrangement.