Z and My Past--Part 2 <Progressive Line>

<asymptote>

The first acquaintance with him was very ordinary.

When I was a child, I was a marginal person. Even marginalized people pushed me out. When I went out to play on the tour bus, I would always take two seats by myself. On the rickety tour bus, even the air was only willing to be lonely and quiet beside me. a little sound.

Looking at the group of people who are burning with carnival and noise so close to me, I often can't help thinking, if I can touch the edge of that fire, even a little bit. But on the surface, I still habitually put on an expression of sitting alone and spacious.

Later, I finally realized that I was actually a flower whose scientific name is solitary and self-admiring, commonly known as a flower that is sick, poisonous, and thorny. When I realized this, I would occasionally laugh at myself, and as a result, I attracted some people, some because they looked at me funny, some because they looked at me pitiful, and there were still no people who really talked to me because they looked at me.

And he was just an unknown person. Like the child of the next door neighbor, the classmate who rides the same bus together every day, the child of the father's colleague (Note 1). There will always be someone like this in everyone's life, and he is the one who is very unfamiliar.

***

So our second acquaintance was extraordinarily peculiar.

One day in high school, I started with a flashy but empty encouragement, he waved with a bit of dark humor, and we got to know each other again.

A little curiosity, a little loneliness, a short exchange of life insights, I thought about it for a while, but he is very far away from my life circle, maybe such a long distance will not let me stab him again.

So, I don't know when I signed a contract with Life to allow such a person to come to my house at ten o'clock every night - but, let's be it, a noisy but unhappy island and a ship that thinks its three views are distorted The boat began to share the lonely taste of the sea breeze, and watched the sunset slowly drift away with the waves for a whole year. Until the end of the year, it disappeared like a receding coastline, and the soft sand was finally taken away by the sea that belonged to the ship.

During the period, he went out for a study test, and when he came back, he changed his appearance beyond recognition.

At that time, I didn't care about his departure, so I was surprised at his return, and I was happy with his return. At that moment, I thought I would finally find a right intersection in him, but as time went on, he began to reveal in fragments that he was actually an asymptote, or the kind that was moving away.

And then one week, he finally got far enough away that I couldn't deceive myself any more—so that I could see, yes, this man was an asymptotic distance—and then, carrying fresh water, The food and the shells on the beach, openly but silently, rowed away slowly.

Before he left, he left behind a few books, some vague memories like a map soaked in water, and a few soaked sparks.

He also left messages on the beach.

"I still come back occasionally," he said.

In the end, a dazed sea was left for me to look around.

Blurred map? Soggy Tinder? So when the sea breeze blows with loneliness next time, where should I go? How can I ask for help?

Days come and go, and my panic was eventually consumed by countless numbers that I know stand on the shore like helpless and hopeless Wangfu stones.

He has no ambiguous relationship with me at all, there is no feast in the world, and there is no herb in the world, I know it.

And I also know that the boy I knew in the past who was able to accompany me in the text, and the exchange of messages, made me feel like I "found the same kind", has long gone to the other side of college life and more with the waves of time. Well, he floated away; I also knew that I was no longer the me who looked up to find redemption, and bowed my head longing for someone to gently hold my face and say, "Are you alright."

But until now, I am still reading the book he gave, restoring the map he gave, trying to dry the fire, hoping to go back to the not perfect but wonderful time in the past.

Every time I think about it, I feel like I'm so fake. At the time, I claimed that I hoped that he could abandon his darkness and move forward, but when he did, I was at a loss and it was hard to adapt... I couldn't and didn't want to meet him in that new form again.

Hypocrisy, so hypocritical.