But perhaps, it is this incomplete, innocent and simple, yet budding, pure and strong love, which is more throbbing than our later divisions and unions.
How can I be so stupid that I secretly pick up the button you dropped, make a bright smile, and hang it on my pen;
how else can I be so stupid that I even picked the wrong button and didn’t know it, I secretly laugh at it every night, or weep every night;
how can I be so stupid, fall into the swimming pool with one foot, get up and get up with my back to you, thumb and index finger, and say, I'm OK, it doesn't matter.
Just because I like you, I
humble myself to the dust.
If the story ends at this point, everything will be sealed in memory. From the stairs, on the playground, and outside the classroom, carefully silhouette you and press it into the photo album of the years. In that case, no matter how time flies, you will always be a 15- or 6-year-old boy, with a bright smile exuding the clarity of youth. breath.
Wouldn't that be perfect.
Everyone has a time like that, when they burn their calories with all their strength and want to jump to the highest moment, who happens to be seen.
All the behaviors are so stupid that they pretend to be gloomy and melancholy, white shirts and suit pants, hiding in the toilet, combing their hair with their hands, running desperately on the field, inadvertently passing a classroom window deliberately, or intermittently. Study hard, just because you imagine that you will see everything I do for you.
For your insomnia, for you to change,
for you to run and jump,
for you to be tireless,
all are just a smile for you,
but
I don't know if you
will happen to see it at some inadvertent moment
.
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