You haven't forgotten to soak up a girl, hold hands, kiss, and occasionally small noises will be resolved when you climb up to her window. You like her eyebrows, the mole on the corner of her mouth, and her smile.
Then you met Mike. Mike is a good boy. You take the subway together, help people walk the dog, and occasionally taste marijuana, and you begin to feel empty, this loneliness that does not come from but is lingering.
The days are still the same. The old man in the family still can't communicate. Anthony, who is accustomed to domestic violence, leads his mentally retarded brother, and you, the stalker Neff, and sometimes Mike, who has nothing to do. It's just that the hole in my heart is still expanding, and I can't fill it up.
You decide to leave. The mentally retarded brother killed himself, the girl kept arguing, the old man fell ill, Anthony went to jail, and even Mike was shot to death on the street. You finally made up your mind to board the bus. The thirty-nine-dollar bus will take you all the way to California.
It's like an insomniac who is tortured by the noise on the street, closing the window and shutting down all the sounds on the other side, still unable to fall asleep, watching the endless stream of streets, unwilling to open the window again. Then I feel beautiful, all the silent, untouchable and unharmful memories become clearer and more precious, but never open the window again.
You feel that you have fled there, turned your back on them, and dared not look back and open the window every day. Until one day, Dito, you finally understand that the person who loves you will always be there and never leave.
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