Jay Chou has a song "Wait for your get out of class". When I listened to it for the first time, the shadow of a young man appeared in my mind: thin, standing under the sycamore tree and waiting. In my limited and lonely youth, there really appeared such a teenager waiting for me to finish class.
One day in my freshman year of high school, I received my first love letter since I entered the school.
Without fancy envelopes, letter paper is just the most common white paper with black lines. Small and large sheets of paper are stacked into a boxy shape. I secretly opened it in class to see the black handwriting, neither scribbled nor good-looking. It's very long, two pages long. The letter begins with: "Do you remember me? I was your classmate in the first year of junior high, sitting behind you, the boy who often bullied you."
Of course I remember. In my memory, there was a boy in the back row who was not tall and thin. He always bullied me. He often pulled my braids in class. Calmly: "It's boring!" He would often hurt me, such as "Your braids are crooked today", "This question is all wrong, you are too stupid", "You seem to have gained weight" and so on.
In this regard, he explained in the letter: "Actually, I liked you for a long time, but I didn't know how to express it, so I bullied you to attract your attention." When I was young, I never expected him Those coy little thoughts when teasing me. The last line of the letter was: "I'll wait for you to finish class." I was suddenly flustered.
I haphazardly folded the letter paper in the textbook, and I no longer wanted to listen to the second half of the class. I imagined the scene where we would meet after class. I imagined many possibilities, embarrassing, bland, happy, dull... But in fact, after class, I rushed out of the crowd and ran towards the dormitory.
I escaped. Forgive me for being timid and cowardly at the time, but in fact it was more at a loss. I don't know how to face a boy who loves me, and I don't know how to look and what pace to walk towards him. So, I chose to escape.
The boy still persevered and stood under the plane tree downstairs, waiting for me to finish class.
Once, I was secretly hiding behind a window and saw him standing quietly in the shade, reading a book in his hand. At the time, I had good eyesight and could clearly see "The Little Prince" written on the blue cover of the book. The warm sunlight passed through the gaps in the leaves and fell on the boy, leaving patches of mottled shadows. I heard my heartbeat, pounding hard against my chest. It jumped so fast that it made me panic. It's a strange feeling, and it carries some kind of red flag. I knew that if I saw him after class, I was done.
Like is taboo. The boy outside the window is standing in the forbidden place of youth.
I continued to avoid him. After a few days, the teenager ran out of patience and returned home lost. He knew I was avoiding him. After that, we stopped contacting each other, and we never met in high school for three years. While I was happy, I also felt a touch of loss. Fortunately, I did not become the "missing girl" in the mouths of teachers and parents; unfortunately, the boy never appeared under that plane tree again.
The wind in the summer evening blows through the plane trees, making a "rustling" sound. I hurried past with a huge schoolbag on my back, looking up and saw a leaf fluttering and falling, as if the unspeakable secret feelings were coming to an end little by little. I thought wistfully, maybe there will never be such a beautiful and moving summer.
Later, I successfully entered the university, and that love letter from the distant summer was buried in my memory. Until I heard the song "Wait for your get out of class", some people and things in my memory suddenly became fresh. That faint melancholy, mixed with the unique heat of summer and the coldness between the eyes of a teenager, lingered in my heart. It is said that everyone will have a white moonlight in front of the window, and a cinnabar mole on their chest, because they once owned it, because they never owned it.
Thinking of it this way, I would rather the boy be that white moonlight. Years have changed many people beyond recognition, but the young man in memory will always be bright, just as he was when he first saw him. The best teenagers will naturally stay in the best time and be immortal with their youth. As for regrets, youth always has regrets, which is its charm.
When I was young, the ignorant love between boys and girls was probably the most beautiful and pure love in the world. It doesn't get easier than this. It's as simple as just wanting the other person to be happy and happy for a long time.
The yellowed love letter is still treasured in my bookcase. Every time I open it, I am moved by the sincerity and simplicity of the words. Behind those clumsy words was the young man's ardent and beautiful intention.
When I became an adult, I also had the experience of falling in love, but I still didn't have the soft and light feeling that was as gorgeous and beautiful as the clouds in the sky when I avoided the youth. I know that it is the unique throbbing of young boys and girls in youth, and I am very glad that I once had such a wonderful feeling. The song sings: "When you receive a love letter, it also means that I have gone far." But boy, you are with my youth.
