*First person warning*
I met him again on the night of my release from prison. I was scared and wanted to run away, but he took my hand and kissed me on the lips.
We fell into a strange atmosphere, like lovers reunited after a breakup, and like a bed/partner for instant pleasure. He always seems to love me very much but doesn't care. I can't figure it out.
*
When I was 17 years old, I transferred to Haicheng High School. I was tall and had a shaved head. I often skipped classes and got into fights, and I refused to accept anyone.
But I like to secretly write those youthful, painful, nonsense poems in my diary.
My deskmate is exactly the opposite of me. He is a 10 out of 10 good student, good-looking and well-educated. The teacher likes him and is pursued by girls, but his compositions always make me feel his great disrespect for Chinese literature.
I wrote: Love is like a tropical rose that blooms on Mount Everest. Snowflakes fall on it. I wrote Tan Qiao's name with tears in my eyes.
He wrote: I had sex with Qin Qianjue today and it was great.
Me:…………
The arrogant and poisonous-tongued Flower of Kaolin VS the Pipi Shrimp who is thorny in the early stage and has low self-esteem in the later stage.
Ps: Four updates a week, 10,000+ (set a goal for yourself, otherwise no one will see me and I will give up quietly)
Newcomers are on the road. Let's have a good time.
Intention: Love yourself well