I probably wrote this story because I wanted to recall my high school life, but it has been too long, and all I can think of about high school are the trivial details of life. Probably because I know that I am ordinary, my student days can only be summarized as routine. There is no strong love, no unforgettable companionship, and even dreams are too shy to speak, but I have been the number one in many places. But damn, growth is not absent. All the feelings of exhaustion, rejection, loneliness, emptiness, awkwardness, and self-torture recurred in my immature girlhood. Falling in love with a boy but being ashamed to admit it; the jealousy and guilt that burst out when my best friend's grades improved; the quarrels and conflicts with parents and teachers; the self-destructive tendency when my finger was cut by paper. Most of them are trivial when you think about it, but they are indeed my precious youth. So I simply told the story in a straightforward manner.
To sum up, in fact, I am not mainstream again.
Concept: Stories require imagination, let alone life, so why not be brave?