Three years ago, on that night the darkness was thick, with a high moon hanging in the middle of the sky. You and I skipped class to go out and play. It was precisely the most intense time of our final year in high school. I kept my head down and followed closely behind you. You held my hand without saying a word, only silence. I suddenly wanted to break the silence; it felt too oppressive. I laughed and said to you: "Some people are suited to be lovers, some are suited to be husbands, D80 military knife." Upon hearing this, you stopped in your tracks, let go of my hand, and instead embraced me, asking me with a half-smile: "Then what do you think I am suited for?" There was a hint of coquetry in your tone. I smiled happily, freed myself from your grasp, and bounced ahead of you. Looking back at you, I saw that you did not follow me but stood quietly a few meters away, gazing at me. I had no intention of giving you an answer to your question. Seeing that you weren't moving, I knew you were determined to know the answer. I stopped smiling and shouted at you: "Suitable as a lover," with a firm tone and decisive eyes. You looked at me without speaking or moving forward. After staring at you for several seconds, I conceded, slowly approaching you, gently hugging you, and whispering into your ear: "I was fooling you, you're suitable for everything." You hugged me tightly and then pulled my hand to continue walking, once again in silence. Perhaps, at that moment, I saw your uncertainty and your evasive gaze. But I shook my head, smiled, and continued walking with you. A tarred road stretched endlessly before us, dragging our shadows long and longer.
Two years ago, there was a very strong wind that night. I remember it should have been winter then. The night was extremely cold, with drizzle falling from the sky. We didn't have an umbrella, so you held me in your arms, strolling on deserted streets late at night. On the street, there were very few pedestrians. In your embrace, I couldn’t feel the cold at all because I had your warmth and the gloves you gave me. To me, this was already very warm. Suddenly, you asked: "What if one day I fall in love with someone else, what will you do?" I stared at you hard, clenching my fists and said fiercely: "Are you secretly seeing someone behind my back?" You held my hand, smiled, and said: "I was just asking casually, I don't feel anything for anyone else." I laughed happily and added: "I bet you wouldn't dare." You replied impatiently: "Yes, yes, yes, I wouldn't dare." I walked happily for a while, stopped, and said sternly to you: "I don't know, I might change, change a lot, so much that I won't even recognize myself." You looked at my serious expression, tapped my forehead, and said: "Big brother was just joking with you, don't be so serious, relax a bit." Then you hugged me and walked towards the school. I looked back at our shadows—what a happy couple we were!
One year ago, it was raining that night, slightly heavier than drizzle. That was the second day after you broke up with me. On the day of the breakup, I deleted your phone number in front of you, but how could things stored in my mind be erased so easily? Originally, we were no longer supposed to intersect, and I would never have contacted you. But that night, I dialed your number. Watching you approach from afar, you were so familiar to me. When you arrived in front of me, you said indifferently: "What do you want from me? What is there left to say between us?" The air was filled with a taste I couldn't describe. It turned out you were already far, far away from me. At that moment, I was really strong. I said calmly: "Do you really like him?" My tone seemed devoid of any human sentiment, as if I were telling someone else's story. You lowered your head silently, without answering my question. Looking at you, I found you truly exhausted—you must have caught a cold again, as you always did when it rained. Still, you just kept your head down. I thought this version of you was more unbearable and painful than if you had simply said yes. I slapped you hard and then threw a line at you: "I'll never know you again!" Without looking back, I walked off dramatically. Later, you and she were really together. Sometimes I still met you both, but I acted as if I didn't see you, though I was heartbroken. It hurt so much!
Today, I don't know why I've written all these things down. Am I mourning? Mourning my dead love? It's been over a year since the breakup, and I'm still single. Indeed, over a year without you by my side, I feel like I've learned a lot of things, such as not being overly sentimental, being more independent, getting used to being alone, no matter where I go. There's still a place for you in my heart, but its proportion has changed. Sometimes, I still miss the days we spent together, but those days are long gone, aren't they? I originally thought I would become very depressed, but I was wrong—I've become more diligent than ever, working harder on life and studies. Many things can't be known until you try them. Now, while you're still worried about passing exams, I can do whatever I want with ease. This is what I gained after losing you, but now, I feel like that loss was worth it.
Our story has already faded into obscurity, 2009's most touching love.
In fact, three years ago, I lied to you—you really are only suited to be a lover.