Who has a touching story?

That autumn, I met her in an unknown middle school. At that time, there was a big old camphor tree in front of our classroom. It is full of foliage and trees, and all our stories revolve around it.

She is a pure and lively girl, the kind of otherworldly, and I am weak and pale. I only have one friend-books, which have given me a lot, and made me deeply mature, and at the same time let all my lofty sentiments and courage live in illusory dreams, making me extremely timid and weird.

The days passed silently, and secretly appreciating her became my daily compulsory course, but every time she appeared in front of me, I felt an unnatural feeling that I couldn't hide. It was so difficult to say a word in front of her. I wish I could be with her, but I can't find a reason. So I only pray silently every day, hoping to share a table with her one day. Every time I change places in class, I am very excited. I hope there is a power that can help me realize this greatest wish, but the reality would rather run counter to my ideal. Every time I stay away from her.

Maybe my sincerity touched God. In the third grade, the kind, lovely and respectable class teacher asked me to sit at the same table with her.

On that day, I silently sang in my heart and silently held the most important ceremony in my life.

Since then, I have started a new life and cherish every day of my life. We fully enjoy the happiness of life and freely create the most beautiful and pure feelings in the world. Her purity washed away the vulgarity in her soul and everything that has nothing to do with harmony and happiness. After the evening self-study, she and I came out of the classroom. The moonlight was dim outside, and everything was so quiet and charming. Suddenly she whispered my name in my ear. It sounds like sweet music from heaven, which makes me relaxed and happy. A feeling of electric shock rises from the depths of the soul and spreads all over the body instantly. I turned my head and he was looking at me. I silently looked at her beautiful big eyes and wanted to kiss her, but I didn't dare. I felt trembling all over.

The senior high school entrance examination is approaching day by day. I know that our days together are numbered, and I often feel inexplicably agitated. Only then did I remember that I was on earth, not in heaven.

Cupid's arrow can't beat the arrow of time after all, and the day of parting has come. It rained heavily that night. I came to the empty classroom alone and recalled the wonderful year we spent together. My eyes were wet, not only for her, but also for those sincere friends. It's really uncomfortable and lonely to think that everyone will go their separate ways tomorrow. I don't know when she came to the classroom with an umbrella, and we walked silently into the rain without saying a word, only the intermittent rain beat on the umbrella and in our hearts.

She handed me a gift, two cute little dolls embraced together, and a small note with her beautiful handwriting on it:

The small gift is very light and can represent my heart. I was so happy. I took this simple sentence as her true feelings and commitment to the future.

But we parted as friends. Until now, I still doubt what I did. Why didn't I make any promises and tell her anything? If I did, the ending might be so perfect. But I didn't. Why not? I don't know now. Maybe there is only cowardice in my subconscious. I dare not face the reality. I want to have real feelings, but I avoid responsibility. Maybe it's some kind of cruel self-harm caused by inferiority complex. Sometimes it seems that nothing is a reason, and it can only be described in two words-no chance.

In this way, we separated. That year, she 17 years old and I 16 years old. I am really too young. Later, I was admitted to the provincial key middle school to attend high school, but she gave up her studies and went south to Guangdong for various reasons.

In the first semester of senior one, we couldn't get in touch, but I thought about her every day and often dreamed about her at night. My dream is interwoven with stories of my joys and sorrows with her. Every day in real life, I am happy and sad with the stories in my dream. I will write to her if I want her to go to the deepest place, but I can't send any. I write one letter after another, one treasure after another.

Just as I finished writing this letter 5 1, the winter vacation came. I couldn't wait to go home that day, and then I rode the bike that seemed to have her fragrance in a hurry and came to the campus where we had studied together. I saw her standing under the big camphor tree in front of the classroom in the distance. She wore a familiar white dress with long hair fluttering in the wind. It's her. It must be her.

I rushed over, but there was nothing but a few yellow leaves falling silently in the wind.

That day, I stood there and recited her name thousands of times. I'm sure she will come, for sure. But it didn't appear until the ruthless night arrival. The next day, the third day. . . . . . I will go as soon as I have time, and I will wait there for a long time. The campus in winter is cold and desolate.

The person I'm waiting for hasn't come yet, but the Spring Festival is approaching day by day. I was almost desperate, but the more desperate I was, the more times I went and the longer I waited. Every time I come out of school and walk into a busy street, I always see a similar figure.

It's New Year's Eve, and the atmosphere of that day is very strong. It seems that I am the only one in the whole world who is still suffering from sadness, and I am completely desperate. I feel so stupid, like a psycho. When I turned and walked out of the campus, at that moment, I heard that I was swearing that I would never come again, forever.

I bowed my head and walked sadly in the bustling town. Suddenly I heard her familiar voice. I looked up and she was right in front of me. A miracle finally appeared, and I almost jumped up with her in my arms.

She is more beautiful than before and has learned to dress up. The life of a working girl for half a year has made her take off a lot of childishness. "I didn't expect to see you here. I just got back last night."

So we met unexpectedly, and then she told me about her life there. Her life there is very difficult. She works more than ten hours a day, and her salary is very low. The environment there is very complicated, everyone has it. She was trapped in all kinds of strange faces, but she felt lonely. She said she didn't want to stay in that environment for fear of assimilation. I have no words, only silently accompany her sad.

When she talked about hearing gunshots in the middle of the night, when he talked about one of her companions gradually degenerating due to drug abuse. My heart will cramp. "Are you still going next year?" I asked, "Go ahead." "Why?" "。 . . . . 。" She didn't answer, sometimes life has no choice.

A few days later, she left again.

She works hard in loneliness, and I live a pale and powerless life under the cover of books. We send each other the most needed care, thoughts, comfort and blessings through letters from south to north. One day she asked me if I still wrote poetry. I'm stupid. The dull and busy high school life has long put poetry and painting on the shelf.

Once she told me in a letter that Hua, our close friend in Guangdong, was chasing her, and she refused him, but she couldn't avoid his concern and help.

Once she wrote to tell me that her father died when we were in junior high school, and now her mother has found another husband, but she must marry that man's son. She said he was very nice, but he was not her ideal. She refused. Her mother scolded her, hated her and begged her. She is under great pressure from her mother and the whole family.

I always doubt but dare not think deeply, whether there is any deep meaning in this, and whether there is any hint for me. Although I miss her very much and like her very much, I won't think too much about other things, especially marriage, which is far away and I dare not think about it in high school and college. . . . . .

I still have a long way to go.

I also know how hard she works and how lonely and helpless she is. But apart from a few words of comfort, what can I give her, besides telling some truths learned in school, such as: "People should strive, have ideals and keep learning"? What else can I do for her?

She always said that she had a lot to say to me personally, but she only came back once a year, and she could only stay at home for a few days at a time, and there were always some unusual things that prevented us from meeting each other.

As time goes by, the days and good feelings in * * * become more beautiful, but they also become illusory.

Seeing each other again, I have been admitted to the university in the north, and I have been separated for several years, and I really feel the distance brought by time and space. She has changed a lot, but I am still a bookworm. There are obstacles between us. Although we work hard, it is difficult to talk together, and the distance brought by this time is difficult to make up with time. Sadly, my feelings for her have not changed at all.

That time we walked and talked. Suddenly I saw Hua coming. I smiled at him. He ignored me, put his hand on her shoulder and put his arm around her. I suddenly felt dizzy and almost fell down. But I vaguely saw her push away Hua's hand and say, "Hua, old classmate, are you kidding?" I also vaguely saw the hatred in Hua's eyes.

That day, I don't know how I came back, but I know I drank a lot of wine and cried a lot.

Several times, I saw them together. But every time I'm around, she always tries to hide her relationship with China, but it's always shattered glass.

I really don't want to see them, but I often see them. Sometimes I wonder why I haven't had a chance to see her before. Maybe it's providence.

But I am still deceiving myself, telling myself that everything is not true, and I still haven't given up hope. I am still trying to make some changes. But it's too late. Word got out that they were getting married. On the day before their wedding, I came to the school where we lived for several years for the last time. On that day, I traveled all over the school and collected all the joys and sorrows. Then I came to the evergreen camphor tree and silently engraved my and her names on the camphor tree that witnessed our separation with a knife. When I carved it, I found her standing behind me, her eyes red as if she were going to cry.

"wish. . . You are happy! " I tried to say the only thing I could, and my voice was so low that I could hardly hear myself. "I ... . Me. . . Me. . . "Her words didn't come out, but tears came out.

Then, we silently walk on the campus path, let the slowly moving footsteps recall the lost bits and pieces, and nothing can be changed by my ability. The weather is fine, but I hope there will be a rainstorm, which will wash everything away and leave no trace.

I went back to school with pain. I tried to change myself, but I can't forget her anyway, although I know everything is no longer.

I really hate myself, my cowardice and my incompetence. I often say that I am useless. I have nightmares, and everyone wakes up from them.

I really miss her. I think I'm going crazy. One day, I exchanged my travel expenses for a plane ticket to the south. I know all this is futile and meaningless, but I still embarked on this road with no future.

There is beautiful music on the train, and the beautiful spring scenery in Jiangnan is outside the window. But I turned a blind eye to everything. All I know is that I'm going to a place to meet someone. I don't care about anything else. I don't care.

By the time I found her and Hua's home, the night was already deep, but when I raised my hand to knock, I hesitated. My hand stopped in mid-air and was quiet for a long time. Finally, I didn't have the courage to go in. I came to the window, they were eating, and Hua kept picking up food for her. I know Hua loves her as much as I do. They talked and laughed, immersed in happiness. Suddenly China said:

"Wife, when can I be a father?" "。 . . . . 。" She didn't answer, just put her head on Hua's shoulder.

My heart is broken when I see this, but I still hold back my tears. It's raining heavily outside, so I didn't bring anything. I stumbled to the railway station alone. It's raining harder and harder, with lightning and thunder. The dazzling lightning often makes the world in front of me white.

When I came back, the sad song was played on the train over and over again: "Love is over, running water under the bridge, love and hate, why don't you remember your tenderness until you can't stay?" . . . . "I finally couldn't help it. I haven't cried for many years. Tears flow down like spring water, blurring my vision and my world. . .

I will never forget her, especially every night when there is lightning and thunder. My heart no longer belongs to me, but is occupied by the pain and sadness of missing.