I felt slightly better today, after convincing myself that he would never change his mind. The only things for me to do may include forgetting and cherishing the hope that the next one would suit me better.
Forgetting is by no means a piece of cake (I learnt this from Roadshow, anyway). I was reminded of him non-stop while seeing all those establishments, people, and even food. We watched The Double Life of Veronique. We attempted to feed a black kitten with cornflakes near a pool, and remembered that kittens drink milk only on the next day. We exchanged our ID photos on a bench. We took our last picture together at the Queen’s Pier, which was still in use, and he avoided my lens afterwards. He remembered to bring a torch with him when we went hiking. He had a long monologue on whether to discontinue our relationship on a footbridge. He walked me home. He bought me cup noodles and biscuits. He asked me to print him copies of required readings for Contemporary Political Science. He eats no vegetables except broccoli. He avoids travelling by railway whenever riding on a bus is an alternative. He has been doing hairdressing for himself since Form 6. He writes to newspapers, and posts articles not published on his blog. He shares comics with his sister. He listens to Janice and Stephy. He likes soccer as much as Ma Ngok. He likes movies as much as Hehe. He speaks as softly as Szeling. He is as determined as May.
I practised inputting Chinese characters on SMS faster. I broke his (and also Tam’s) record on Minesweeper. I bought a few issues of Soccer Weekly and read about Argentine players in La Liga. I learnt to travel by bus and minibus. I learnt to appreciate B-movies and Hong Kong productions. I waited for his calls and date by working hard in the office. I tried to control my temper. I paid attention to the updates of Pets@Work. I travelled alone to Taitung after having a big fight with him, and he met me at the airport when I returned. I imagined him jumping into my sight all of a sudden when I was damn frustrated on schoolwork. I thought about how to speak my mind more clearly. I acted painstakingly in front of him. I cried to him shamelessly. I wrote to him in English on the Valentines’ Day, with the hope of sounding subtler. I longed for meeting him for dinner. I felt jealous of people whom he talked to cheerfully. I tried to read his mind, but then, failed.
Retrospection. Resentment. Reinforcement. Curses. Self-pity. Whatever you call them.
Forgetting is by no means a piece of cake (I learnt this from Roadshow, anyway). I was reminded of him non-stop while seeing all those establishments, people, and even food. We watched The Double Life of Veronique. We attempted to feed a black kitten with cornflakes near a pool, and remembered that kittens drink milk only on the next day. We exchanged our ID photos on a bench. We took our last picture together at the Queen’s Pier, which was still in use, and he avoided my lens afterwards. He remembered to bring a torch with him when we went hiking. He had a long monologue on whether to discontinue our relationship on a footbridge. He walked me home. He bought me cup noodles and biscuits. He asked me to print him copies of required readings for Contemporary Political Science. He eats no vegetables except broccoli. He avoids travelling by railway whenever riding on a bus is an alternative. He has been doing hairdressing for himself since Form 6. He writes to newspapers, and posts articles not published on his blog. He shares comics with his sister. He listens to Janice and Stephy. He likes soccer as much as Ma Ngok. He likes movies as much as Hehe. He speaks as softly as Szeling. He is as determined as May.
I practised inputting Chinese characters on SMS faster. I broke his (and also Tam’s) record on Minesweeper. I bought a few issues of Soccer Weekly and read about Argentine players in La Liga. I learnt to travel by bus and minibus. I learnt to appreciate B-movies and Hong Kong productions. I waited for his calls and date by working hard in the office. I tried to control my temper. I paid attention to the updates of Pets@Work. I travelled alone to Taitung after having a big fight with him, and he met me at the airport when I returned. I imagined him jumping into my sight all of a sudden when I was damn frustrated on schoolwork. I thought about how to speak my mind more clearly. I acted painstakingly in front of him. I cried to him shamelessly. I wrote to him in English on the Valentines’ Day, with the hope of sounding subtler. I longed for meeting him for dinner. I felt jealous of people whom he talked to cheerfully. I tried to read his mind, but then, failed.
Retrospection. Resentment. Reinforcement. Curses. Self-pity. Whatever you call them.
2 則留言:
Let's call all these passions, bygones, memories or simply vicissitudes of life.
Leave something for yourself, dear.
Cham
嗯。從來都沒聽你說過如此想他。。。
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