I'm a swimming team and a guitar club. I look pretty good. What's wrong with me?
What are you trying to do?
I just want to chase you.
If you are seventeen and all you think about is whether you can go to college, you are no longer a virgin, and you can pee in a straight line, what a happy child you would be.
I think I like girls, so I can't like you at all.
Are we breaking up like this?
He will fall in love with me when the water is dry.
I am sorry.
That's how I survived, I really hope to see that day soon.
I won.
The whole summer is over as if nothing has been done.
But there will always be something left, right? Whatever we leave behind, we become what kind of adults.
If one day, maybe a year later, maybe three years, if you start to like boys, you must be the first to tell me.
Little man, looking at your floral shirt drifting away, I'm thinking, what will we be like in one year, three years, five years? Since you are kind, cheerful and comfortable, you should be more handsome. So I seem to see that many years later, you are standing in front of a blue door, the sun at 3 o'clock in the afternoon, you still have a few pimples, you smile, I run to you, ask you how you are, you point head. In three years, five years, or even longer, what kind of adults will we become? Is it a physical education teacher? Or my mom? Although I close my eyes and can't see myself, I can see you.
The days related to youth include
bicycles, beaches, fireworks, swimming pools, basketball, sneakers, ballpoint pens, school uniforms, school bags.
I watched this suffocatingly clean movie on a snowy night.
A boy in a floral shirt has a dark face, white teeth, sly eyes, raised hair, and a sunny smile.
I think every girl will probably like this innocent, cute and handsome little boy when they are young.
The girl in the white shirt has a delicate face without makeup, crisp short hair, a stubborn figure, tugging eyes, and bright corners of her mouth.
I think, every boy will probably have a pure and beautiful little girl smiling in his memory.
Youth, youth. What a crude yet beautiful youth.
In the mood of forbearance,
you secretly took his picture, and you closed your eyes and imagined being with him.
You collect his sneakers, his diaries, the water bottles he drank. You smile and cry inexplicably over some trivial matters related to him.
You dare not tell him how you feel, you secretly share your joys and sorrows with your girlfriend, and you write someone else's name on the love note you wrote to him.
You are rejected by him.
You burned the letter and threw away the sneakers and the trash.
You kept writing his name with a ballpoint pen, and finally it was Takuya Kimura.
Maybe you will never forget him in your whole life, maybe he will turn into a vague aura in your memory, maybe the reunion after many years will still sting your heart, maybe one day you will find your childishness Ridiculous, but that blue door has been closed forever in the wind-blown letterhead ashes.
Low-backed attachment
You shake your head proudly, you pedal hard on the bicycle.
You write over and over again on the wall and the beach that I am a girl, I should love boys, I love boys.
You think drinking from someone else's cup is kissing, and you think you're no longer gay after kissing a guy.
Your stubborn sneakers rub against the ground, making a moving sound in the empty gym, and you're finally shoved over a chair.
You're looking forward to growing up, and you don't know when you'll get through this bewildering, exciting, and exciting summer.
However, when this blue summer finally passes, all your doubts about yesterday, all your struggles about being young, and all your throbbing about youthfulness will turn into a touch of relief and feelings as the blue door goes away. , farther and farther, farther and farther.
Sunny Sunny
You think you are pretty good, you stubbornly like a girl.
Your world is pure and happy, and your biggest secret is that peeing will fork.
You eat dinner at her snack bar every day, then tell her I'm full and I'm leaving.
You keep asking why, and you push her back on the chair over and over.
You chase her bike and tell her I won.
Under her graffiti, you wrote dashingly: Zhang Shihao came here for a visit/2001/I was here!
When your floral shirt is fluttering in the wind, when your body is thrown into the blue water, when one day many years later you are surrounded by smoke, you suddenly think of the pure and stubborn little girl in your memory, can you raise your head? Take a look at the sky and ask who you have become after crossing the blue gate.
At the end
everyone has a blue door in their hearts.
It is sweet, it is bitter, it is hesitating, it is breaking free.
When Zhang Shihao and Meng Kerou's bicycles chased each other and shuttled recklessly in the green shade of Taipei, the two young and clean faces were filled with enchanting beauty! Your heart seems to be flying with it. That youthful surging, one after another, surging endlessly; that faint melancholy, the dark tide surging and ripples.
Every day in the past, we have been looking forward to when we can cross this blue door and become adults.
However, one year, three years, five years, ten years. We have already walked through this blue door unknowingly.
Looking back, who is standing in front of the door smiling at you? So warm, so young, so beautiful, so familiar, so unfamiliar, so close, so far.
It's just that we can't go back, we can't go back.
Everything in the past has become the empty classroom after the girl left, the pages of the books on the desk being flipped by the wind, and the handsome back of the boy riding a bicycle in the wind.
The happy English song at the end sounded, but I finally burst into tears.
I finally realized that I could never be that young again.
Although I close my eyes, I can't see myself, but I can see you.
Whatever we leave behind, we become what kind of adults.
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