The joy brought by math lasted until that mont in the afternoon during the 100-ter sprint test, because at that mont, I twisted my ankle. At the most painful mont, a clear sound reached my ears, and I was so frightened that I lost my wits, thinking, ’It’s broken, definitely broken.’ But then, as I sat by the track, I found out it was just a little girl next to breaking a comb with a snap. I sat on the track unable to move, looking rather miserable. I thought to myself, I must be having a streak of bad luck recently. The teacher announced a 3000-ter long-distance test the day after tomorrow, and I almost spat blood after hearing that. But then the teacher imdiately turned back to say, ’Of course, you don’t have to run,’ which made happy again. I was grateful, and I watched my beloved horse run freely. After a few months, unbelievably, he ran back with his family in tow.
I thought I was a lucky genius, really a lucky genius, or perhaps not a genius at all, which was a joke. Back then, I thought it was really too much to look for teachers at school. They used Christmas Eve for exams, and while sitting in the classroom doing an English paper, I wondered if anyone at ho would move what I painstakingly prepared to the doorway. I wondered if my mom and dad were thinking about visiting , even just for a glance, or if Santa would co down the chimney to hang my beloved toy at the foot of my bed. How much I yearned for a normal, happy life, but everything felt like an illusion, ultimately unattainable. I wrote all my thoughts into my English paper, and later the teacher gave trouble for it. On the way ho, I saw the words ’rry Christmas’ everywhere, tens of thousands of kids running wildly in the streets, drivers smiling and slowing down, and kids bundled up like chubby snown.
I saw on the streets that those children were hand in hand with their parents, and at the mont I reached Guangzhou, I was truly envious. I wished my own parents could be by my side, holding my hand as we walked together; how happy I would be! When I was downstairs, I saw a man awkwardly hanging a little angel on the Christmas tree. After he finished, I noticed he tied the string around the angel’s neck, clearly symbolic of inaction, because I just wanted to quickly, quickly get ho. On that Christmas Eve night, I slept soundly because I believed Santa would find his way successfully through the exhaust pipe, and for good asure, I even left a window open. When the ti ca, I discovered a big, beautifully wrapped box at the foot of my bed. I took it eagerly, wondering if it was the thing I had longed for. Yet, upon opening it, three heavy test-prep books, thick enough to kill soone, fell out shockingly. I was angry only for a morning. I stood in front of Jiuding Departnt Store for the whole morning, eating a full three tubs of ice cream weighing 1.5 kilograms. After finishing it all, my mood improved, and I patted my butt and walked away. Who said one could drown their sorrows in food?
When I got ho, I saw the gift my grandfather bought for , the one I most wanted, placed beside my desk. At that mont, I was so moved, as that December was coming to an end. I thought to myself that I mustn’t catch a cold; I must accompany my grandfather for a nice stroll and spend a happy and joyful New Year together. Yet, in the end, I still caught a cold. I realized I should have worn more clothes, thicker ones, even thicker to never catch a cold, so I could perpetually accompany my grandfather. But I knew that with ti slipping away again and again, everything had changed.
During my school days, all my classmates experienced heartbreak over and over again, taking sleeping pills after each breakup. My classmates used to take one at a ti and now take handfuls at once. I used to collect them all, and he didn’t object; he only wandered back and forth in the living room each night with a cup of coffee, like a troubled lion, with footsteps echoing all night. Eventually, I returned all the pills to him, feeling like I was handing a rope to soone wanting to hang themselves. His work was such a sad affair; he reached the end relying entirely on his efforts but got nothing in return. At 18, a plane crash left him with a fortune in insurance and inheritance, making him an enviable yet pitiable child. He often said he didn’t need anyone’s pity. He is now about the sa age as I am; to put it nicely, he is a pioneering poet, having his own life. He is sowhat lucky because he has enough money to squander for a lifeti, whereas I am just an ordinary person. I have to rely on my own efforts to have what he does because my parents are not around. My parents cannot give any love or assistance, never having thought to stay by my side. That, for , is life, the most painful thing. Ti and again, I ponder what I should do to restore everything to its original state, but there’s no way. No matter how much I give, no matter what kind of ending I try to achieve, it’s never what I want, because it never becos what I desire, and even if I give my all, what difference does it make?
User Comments
0 comments from readers