One day, I was sitting alone in the classroom, it was afternoon, crowds of people were moving with happiness and chatting with each other. From one of them I heard:
“Hey, today’s Valentine’s day right? Are you going to confess to your lover right?”
“Ew, no! That kind of crap’s disgusting! I’d rather eat garbage!”
Valentine’s day, it was a word, so weirdly clear, so peculiarly realistic, it rang distant bells, in my memory. Then it seemed to have provoked something colossal, I had forgotten it all long! I am amazed that I had forgotten something as big as this.
It was a melancholic trauma I had endured.
“Afternoon,
I sat alone in the classroom,
gazing out the window,
as if she was still there. ”
I discovered her beauty by accident, she was like a dark and dumb(silent) comet, whose beauty is never admired until discovery. She was beautiful, at least in my perspective: her black, long hair, flowing like perpetual obsidian streams; her eyes, as bright as dark stars... I can’t saw a place in her that’s not imperfect. I fell in love quick.
But nothing is perfect, just when I was in a trance in love, I had noticed that early love(which is any love relationshups in schools lower than university, we call it “早恋”). I pretend that I never liked her and abhorred her. I displaced her beautiful images with ugly pictures, but I canI was ignoring her every day, but her memories will always seep in through my defenses. At home, I defiantly refused her memories and hated her. I acted if she was a heartless monster, but she was not, she was only a poor girl, being blamed for my inefficiency. I will keep pretending and supprressing, until the day I reach 18, that’ll be four years later. But, I'm afraid that my psychological bulwark will not break down four years later.
Then I carried on, loveless.
It was until the day she left, we wrote cards to give to students leaving. I was stuck when I raised my pen, I tried to call back my meomories of love with great mind force, but to no prevail. All I can write is “Good Luck”. I wanted to travel to the days where I had not refused love, I wanted to travel to the days where I can saw her hair like obsidian flowing streams, her eyes like black stars, I wanted to travel to the days where there was no rule restricting love... But look at now, we might not meet again, until a student meeting afar at the future, I tried to seize as many beautiful pictures of hers as possible.
But she left, at last. Without an aroma of fragrance, without an image full of beauty, without a speck of dust, without a starnd of hair...
I sat there sighing with remorse and intense melancholy, I tried to immortalize her by drawing her, but it was too ugly, I sighed again of my ineptness. I looked out the window, only if she was...there.
She was there walking down the road, although I can only saw here back, it was one of the most beautiful things I have ever saw, it was ineffable. I saw her walked down the road as she entered a car.
There can be still hope, I thought.
“Afternoon,
I sat alone in the classroom,
gazing out the window,
as if she was still there.
But all left was none.
She was not is SHE WAS.”
“Hey, today’s Valentine’s day right? Are you going to confess to your lover right?”
“Ew, no! That kind of crap’s disgusting! I’d rather eat garbage!”
Valentine’s day, it was a word, so weirdly clear, so peculiarly realistic, it rang distant bells, in my memory. Then it seemed to have provoked something colossal, I had forgotten it all long! I am amazed that I had forgotten something as big as this.
It was a melancholic trauma I had endured.
“Afternoon,
I sat alone in the classroom,
gazing out the window,
as if she was still there. ”
I discovered her beauty by accident, she was like a dark and dumb(silent) comet, whose beauty is never admired until discovery. She was beautiful, at least in my perspective: her black, long hair, flowing like perpetual obsidian streams; her eyes, as bright as dark stars... I can’t saw a place in her that’s not imperfect. I fell in love quick.
But nothing is perfect, just when I was in a trance in love, I had noticed that early love(which is any love relationshups in schools lower than university, we call it “早恋”). I pretend that I never liked her and abhorred her. I displaced her beautiful images with ugly pictures, but I canI was ignoring her every day, but her memories will always seep in through my defenses. At home, I defiantly refused her memories and hated her. I acted if she was a heartless monster, but she was not, she was only a poor girl, being blamed for my inefficiency. I will keep pretending and supprressing, until the day I reach 18, that’ll be four years later. But, I'm afraid that my psychological bulwark will not break down four years later.
Then I carried on, loveless.
It was until the day she left, we wrote cards to give to students leaving. I was stuck when I raised my pen, I tried to call back my meomories of love with great mind force, but to no prevail. All I can write is “Good Luck”. I wanted to travel to the days where I had not refused love, I wanted to travel to the days where I can saw her hair like obsidian flowing streams, her eyes like black stars, I wanted to travel to the days where there was no rule restricting love... But look at now, we might not meet again, until a student meeting afar at the future, I tried to seize as many beautiful pictures of hers as possible.
But she left, at last. Without an aroma of fragrance, without an image full of beauty, without a speck of dust, without a starnd of hair...
I sat there sighing with remorse and intense melancholy, I tried to immortalize her by drawing her, but it was too ugly, I sighed again of my ineptness. I looked out the window, only if she was...there.
She was there walking down the road, although I can only saw here back, it was one of the most beautiful things I have ever saw, it was ineffable. I saw her walked down the road as she entered a car.
There can be still hope, I thought.
“Afternoon,
I sat alone in the classroom,
gazing out the window,
as if she was still there.
But all left was none.
