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陪棒无度过漫长岁月

坟墓里寂静无比,埋葬你的是所有你未说出的话
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To those three years

Three Years.mp3
Three Years.mp3

This afternoon, I attended a game theory class, um... a very boring subject. The biggest pain point of such classes, which are indifferent whether you listen or not, is having to stay there from the beginning to the end. While the teacher on stage spoke passionately, I sat in my seat, head down fiddling with my tablet, my mind already far away. I often feel that attending classes can sometimes be quite blissful, unlike in high school where I was always on edge, needing to understand the knowledge points the teacher presented. I could just do what I wanted to do, and for someone like me who often zones out (sometimes I think I might have ADHD, but that's not important for now), it truly feels like happiness.

Unintentionally, I glanced at my roommate's tablet beside me. To be honest, I wasn't really inclined to pry into what others were doing, even if I could see it right next to me. It looked like a document page, with the header boldly stating "To the students of Yizhong." I had a bit of understanding about his high school, but I didn't know it was Yizhong, nor did I know what interesting things there were. This time, I wasn't timid; instead, I leaned over to look at it with him. So, amidst the teacher's lecture, we scrolled down the document together. I saw many people posting photos taken during high school, including couple pictures, youthful, passionate, and vibrant. In an instant, my thoughts were pulled back to high school, and I saw the buildings of their high school in my mind. I also remembered the lake at our high school, that bridge, and the most vivid memory was the long stretch of time from after school to evening classes when I would hang out on the bridge with my close friends. That bridge now seems very small, but in my memory, it was filled with many people—our footprints were there in spring, summer, autumn, and winter, and I could still see that young boy leaning on the bridge, sharing the pain of studying or the joy of playing games with friends.

Looking back at high school now, it seems I have no regrets except for not having dated. By the time I graduated from the college entrance examination, I still had good relationships with classmates and unexpected results, which was enough for me at 17. I used to think graduation was far away, but now it has been 5 years since I stepped into a high school class. The deepest impression high school left on me wasn't the endless practice problems or the mountain of materials, nor was it the knowledge points I could recite (which I pretty much forgot after the college entrance exam). Instead, it was the classmate relationships I always thought were trivial. Let me share my story: when I entered the class in my first year, the first day of school is the day I remember most vividly. I probably didn't think much of it at the time, but everything that happened that day is still clear. Unlike most people's anxiety in unfamiliar environments, I wasn't thinking about my surroundings. I believed that no matter what, I would make friends in the future, and I never thought about actively getting to know my classmates. I always feared complicated interpersonal relationships; if they couldn't bring me healthy feedback, I would get stuck in them, like a rose I had cared for for a long time that pricked me, yet I still held on tightly. Thus, I always adhered to what I called my attitude, recalling what a previous classmate said: "Do nothing, do nothing, it doesn't matter." The fact proved that as long as you don't consider something important, then no matter how that thing changes for better or worse, it won't have a significant impact. I thought it was quite good at the time; I could easily tell classmates who were about to be separated from me that I would see them again. There’s a term called "carefree," which describes me back then. I always thought others didn't understand my actions and thoughts. Looking back now, I realize how foolish and self-righteous I was; the person who understood the least was actually me, yet I was still somewhat pleased with my little perceived advantage.

There are three significant breakdowns in interpersonal relationships during high school. Now that I think about it, I have lost contact with all three of them, but that relationship still drowned in my 17-year-old self, that arrogant and spirited youth. The disappointments of youth are probably reflected in QQ signatures and photos in my space. The breakdown of interpersonal relationships in high school is fatal; most of my sober time was spent in the classroom, always looking up and down, seeing the same classmates and friends. There was no particularly childish "I won't play with him, so you shouldn't either." On the way home from school, I would deliberately walk slowly, fearing that running into someone would be awkward, and I would avoid them during PE class. In short, no matter when I was at school, I had to constantly think about not having any communication with him. Among these three instances, one was very short, only a few days of not speaking. He, who I had spent three years with, came to apologize, but I thought I had the upper hand. Now I think that was childish. The teacher on stage talked about games; you think I'm on the first level, but I'm actually on the third level, while you think you're on the second level, but you're actually on the negative one.

IMG_20241105_001144

And now, I think the road of life is long, and the stories of three years in high school have long turned the page. What remains is only the part of me that has changed, completely accompanying me, which is very good.
"Outside the classroom window, the sunset clouds linger, waiting for the bell to ring, I get up and leave in a hurry."
"Leaning against the glass windowsill, gazing at the white clouds and vast sea, ten years have passed, I turn around and will not return."

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