First Love: You and I Are Like Parallel Lines

Everyone has a first love. Usually it's the rosy memory of youth, the most innocent and bittersweet of them all, like a little immature jujube: fragrant to smell, rough to chew, not particularly tasty at its core, but somehow addictive...

After all, few people in this world can be lucky enough to have saved the galaxy in a past life and spend their whole lives with the first person they ever loved.

Looking back on my own first love, which ended without ever truly beginning, it first began to bud in fourth grade, when a little girl was still too young to understand her feelings. I only truly realized it in seventh grade, when a girl first came of age and fell in love. One idiom sums it up: a gentle stream flowing on and on.

Theme: First love is like a gentle stream, so subtle that you often forget it's there. Yet it flows on for so long that, eventually, you realize it's like a faint white cherry blossom tattoo, quietly etched into my heart without my noticing.