Meeting him was the most beautiful mistake I made in my life.

On that sunny afternoon, the air was full of ambiguity, and I fell into the torrent of time.

His hair is messy, like weeds that are not trimmed all the year round, plaid shirts, trousers and canvas shoes, and his eyes are clear and sloppy. He is not the kind of clean boy I like, but I still can't help falling in love with him.

There is a time gap of seventeen years between me and him, and I am often sad that I can't share those seventeen years with him.

At first, I experienced the sweetest secret love. Like my parents, he was funny, reserved, deep and fascinated. In order to get closer to him, I, who never loved being an official, gave up the poet's self-esteem and became a student representative of one of his courses. I put all the heat into it and ignited my love for him.

His casual words will make me happy all day; One of his slightly intimate actions will plunge me into the ocean of happiness. I've never loved anyone so much, so thoroughly and so purely, as if my sky had only cleared up for him.

So, I, who always disliked learning, wholeheartedly studied the politics he taught, bought several textbooks, did them every day, and even did other subjects, and then tried every means to find the wrong topic to ask him, just to be his best student.

At the age of seventeen, when I first met love, it was like an avalanche of waves.

One day, I quarreled with my friend, and I was very wronged. My heart is like the air in rainy season, dull and humid. Holding a pile of homework to the office and looking at him, I hid my sadness and gave him a big smile.

"What's the matter with you? Is it uncomfortable? " He saw my mood at a glance, and my struggling sadness was annihilated in front of him, and the river that was about to open with tears plunged thousands of miles. "Stop crying!" He held my shoulder and I sobbed and trembled. He gently caressed my tears, looked into my eyes and said slowly, "No matter what happens, be strong and don't cry easily." Remember, you have always been the pride of the teacher! "

At that moment, my heart and the whole territory fell.

From then on, I began to write him love letters, one by one, sandwiched in my homework, without any response, just to let him know how much I love him.

He never gave me any reply, as if those fierce words never appeared in his sight; He never looked at me the same way, as if my love didn't exist.

I am pregnant with a girl's purest love, asking for nothing in return, material things and wealth.

A day, a month, a year.

365 days and nights of thoughts and fantasies quietly left, seventeen-year-old in the mood for love, seventeen-year-old young years, seventeen-year-old girl fell in love with spring, in the poetic season, entered the hall of eighteen.

The days of senior three are fluid, and every day is very tired, and every day is so long, but every day of his class is a magical moment, which blocks my wandering thoughts. All my attention is devoted to him, as if there is nothing but him.

The college entrance examination express train rumbled forward, without a middle station, galloping towards the terminal. I am afraid of the last flowers and sunshine, because I don't want to be separated from him. I can't stand the sad figure of his waving goodbye, and I'm more afraid of my tearful heart.

When winter comes, all life can't resist the invasion of cold, retreat in succession, and finally disappear in the shadow of the last ray of sunshine.

In this winter, in this deadly winter, I did the boldest thing in 18 years. I was as timid as a mouse, so I could. The persistence of girls in love is immeasurable.

It was a lazy afternoon, and the sunshine was broken but ambiguous. I walked into his office with the most sincere heart, suffocating and spreading. I closed the door gently and took a deep breath. My heart was beating so fast that I was really going to die.

"Teacher, do you know all that ...? ""hmm ... hmm ... what is it? " He looked at me puzzled. God, what should I do? Now I really want to kill myself. "Those are ... those ... those letters!" I got up the courage to say it. "Oh ... that!" He gave a long sigh, and his eyes were trance-like and blurred. "You are still young, you will understand when you grow up!" He is sincere, with a warm expression but inexplicable sadness. "I like you, so much!" I don't know where I got the courage. I almost shouted these words. It feels like a thousand years.

And I, however, was already in tears.

"There are many things in this world that we can't just think about, have responsibilities, have secular views, have a lot of helplessness, and ... and ... I can't be sorry for her!" He suddenly turned away, not letting me see the helplessness and struggle in his eyes, let alone the embarrassment of his tears.

"Why, why do you have to grow up to understand ..." I cried heartbreakingly, the whole sky was black, and the sweat in winter forced every cell of me.

My world, storm.

From then on, we never dared to look each other in the eye. Although we still joke as before and pretend that nothing happened, when our eyes meet, we can't help but look away. At this time, my heart was stabbed, and the hot blood dripped on the scar of memory, becoming a scar forever.

The student representative of a course is the only connection between me and him.

This summer came early, but lost its original domineering, no dazzling sunshine, no dry air, no tragic injury, no hot breath.

I was ill, not a serious illness, but I was tortured for a month. I lost weight, my tears dried up and my heart was broken.

Back at school, everything changed.

I am no longer the student representative of one of his courses. I watched others do the work I should have done and watched him explain it to others. I didn't cry, but my heart hurts.

Why is he so cruel that he doesn't even give me charity for this last involvement? Is my love really humble enough for people to trample on at will?

The countdown to the college entrance examination shows dazzling "18" and 18 days. I want to bid farewell to my middle school life, my pure youth, my endless love, my favorite, and those young and frivolous times.

Perhaps, from the beginning, in that ambiguous afternoon, I fell into the torrent of time, entered a world that did not belong to me, and met him who haunted my heart. When time returns to the original track, I also have to leave this criss-crossing region and this colorful dream.

So, meet, but only leave.