Charlie is a sensitive little boy. He writes letters to imaginary friends. On the first day he walked into high school, he started counting how many days he had left. He might become a writer, but right now, he doesn't even have the courage to give his answers in literature class.
Senior girl Sam is like a star, like a popping candy, like a little angel with a trident, like a sad look inadvertently revealed in the wild laughter, and a little light in the eternal night.
A bit of a frivolous high school girl, her gay step-brother who is always happy and rambunctious, a punk Buddhist, a rich girl who loves to steal jeans, and a lover who always persuades all kinds of drugs to blow bubbles with soapy water Big boy with bubbles.
The small world they formed was fantastic, beautiful and sparkling.
Seeing them raise a glass to welcome Charlie together for the first time, put on a grotesque stage play together, exchange mysterious gifts for Christmas, rejoice over an acceptance letter, drive a car and listen to songs to find eternity.
Like a fire in the fireplace in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows on a winter night, crackling firewood, rock music and alcoholic beverages, laughter and turning bottles.
So beautiful and warm. I can only seem to find such banal words to describe it. Without the eloquent rhetoric, it seems to be closer to that kind of simplicity.
But every growth is no small disaster. Collapsing and rebuilding, struggling to move forward on the ruins. Start over every time.
We have to love a few unworthy people, we have to hurt a few innocent hearts, we have to write a letter to an imaginary friend on a typewriter, we see the past, and the image in our minds is like a bomb dropped in the center of the city , I always thought that the dust will not disperse just as the crying will not stop.
Charlie don't ask me how I can understand you, I just understand you.
The little boy who loved to pursed his lips and smiled lightly finally understood that they could accompany him, but when it comes to growing up, what a lonely battle it was.
He also finally understood that in every Miss Sam body, there was probably a wallflower boy. The only difference between them was that Miss Sam understood that although the journey was long and lonely, we always needed a little company, even if it was just a little bit. Son.
I love that Sam finally finds the ending to that song, as I love the night in the aisle and that Charlie finally raises his hand in front of his favorite literature professor.
So hey Wallflower, would you allow me to be your Miss Sam?
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