I turned on the radio, tuned into "Falling in Love with the Radio," and suddenly began reciting "My School-Mate." His voice, so mellifluous and evocative, stirred emotions within me, as tears seemed to swirl in my eye sockets.
Soon, the song shifted, and there I sat at my desk, tears unabashedly streaming down my face.
I recognized it—I was reminiscing about them once more, rekindling those tears of despondency we once shared, recollecting the moments of unspoiled laughter.
I reminisced about my obstinance, his leniency; I recalled my grievances, her solace. Behind each penned word lay a tender heart, all of us traversing that timeline authentically, but indeed, the return journey eludes us.
Thoughts of my desk-mates flooded my mind, him, her, and her. I revisited the vow we pledged, the unwavering conviction etched upon our youthful faces.
Abruptly, I pondered, in the year XX, who among us would honor that commitment, and who would quietly dissipate into the current of my life, leaving it tranquil, devoid of ripples?
They circuited through my existence, only to dissolve as enigmatically as they materialized, leaving scarce room for retrospection.
I recollected the final weeks of ninth grade—time felt sluggish, days seemed interminable, and I yearned for graduation. Perusing my diary entries from that epoch, the word "endure" blanketed the pages.
However, reflecting now, I feel a sense of futility, struggling to comprehend my former musings.
Yet, the clarity dawns—I yearn to retrace my steps. I long to witness their youthful countenances once more, murmur their names, and partake in laughter anew.
I ponder, on such nights when my quill halts, do they, too, find thoughts of me drifting into their consciousness?
As I do of them, do they retain memories of my name or faces distorted by the passage of time? Or perhaps, my existence has simply escaped their recollection.
Yet, such details are immaterial. We constitute a cohort of strangers, converging from disparate paths onto the same thoroughfare, navigating parallel courses, only to diverge again.
Should they, on occasion, reflect upon me, even fleetingly, I should consider myself fortuitous, gratified that someone paused to remember me.
I harbor faith in destiny, and our rendezvous merely typifies one such serendipitous encounter.
When fate arrives, it remains indomitable; when it bids adieu, detaining it proves futile. It's simply redundant.
In moments of leisure, it seems natural to conjure memories of another, contemplating their essence, their smiles—perhaps therein lies a modicum of contentment.
I am not one to wallow in yesteryears, ensnared by their allure. Those instances have dissipated; this, indeed, constitutes reality. I shun the notion of finding myself three years hence, ensconced in some nook of the university, lamenting over the present.
I strive to cherish the present, as both jubilation and sorrow warrant my reverence. Those bygone days—reserving them for contemplation during moments of leisure!
Just as now, dawn approaches, ruminating about them before drifting into slumber, awaiting the advent of a new day.
ns216.73.216.206da2
然後按「加至主畫面」