(center) In the autumn of 2010, we came to Jingzhong together, and in the summer of 2013, we left, still together. One year and one month later, we were no longer in high school. Fading memories, recurring cycles…\ Time dried the exam papers filled with writing, but it did not dry those pure memories.\ The laughter and tears of two springs and autumns, scene by scene, linger before our eyes. In a daze, the past sealed away surges like a tide, breaking through the gates of memory, turning into a sea of rolling tears. The bits and pieces of the past become a warm current, flowing through our hearts. Familiar melodies of youth drift near our ears, at times distant, at times close.\ For two years, we got used to getting up at the dimming of the sky, used to brushing our teeth and washing our face with sleepy eyes, used to cursing the awful education system while walking and calculating the time until the next holiday, supposed to read in class, but secretly snacking after the teacher left…\ In class, we stacked books high, pretended to read with heads bent low, yet peacefully dozed the moment our head rested on the book, or, under the cover of tall book stacks, our fingers flew over the phone keyboard, lingering in the world of novels. After the frenzy under the book stacks, we looked up and suddenly saw the countdown to the college entrance exam, helplessly grabbed our books, and flipped through them restlessly. We got used to complaining after looking at the timetable, all Chinese, Math, English, and the tiring PE class that left us crawling back to the dorm. We planned to read novels during English class, planned to sleep peacefully during English class without listening to the teacher. But one year and one month later, we were no longer in high school.\ We liked writing our youthful vows on the desk, writing our helplessness on the walls, quietly falling asleep the moment the class bell rang, listening to a few favorite songs with earphones during a nap before sleeping, looking at magazines and newspapers we hadn't read for a long time; liked standing on the balcony watching the boys and girls walking below, freely commenting; liked bragging with friends, showing off our wit; liked venting our helpless youth with friends; liked giving teachers random nicknames in chats; liked widening our eyes when walking to see if there were any attractive boys or girls around; liked spreading rumors about vacations we didn't even know where we heard from;Loving... but in one year and one month, we will no longer be in high school.\ Afraid of every exam, yet looking forward to each exam to see if we get good grades; afraid of the announcement of grades, yet eagerly awaiting it to see if our ranking has improved; pretending not to care about our grades, yet secretly checking our ranking over and over when no one is around, and then quietly walking away; thinking: if I don't improve in the next exam, I won't try anymore, yet regardless of progress or regression, the sweat of effort never stops flowing. But in one year and one month, we will no longer be in high school.\ All our habits become so unfamiliar. We thought our youth might be released the moment senior year ended, we thought we would welcome another spring of life. Yet we often think of high school days, wanting to go back to the grade one classroom to see the marks we left on our desks and walls, wanting to return to the grade two classroom to see the blackboards filled with homework, wanting to return to the grade two classroom to see the countdown to the college entrance exam on the blackboard, wanting to see classmates who fought desperately with us in the college exam, wanting to see the deskmate who we couldn't bear to wake up in class, wanting to see the teachers who guided our life, wanting to see the campus filled with our laughter. But in one year and one month, we will no longer be in high school. High school, thinking about it inevitably brings some bitterness, the bitterness is not in experiencing those years, but in no longer having that life. We got used to doing crazy things unrelated to learning in class, while always needing to watch out for the homeroom teacher's ugly face appearing at the back doors or windows. At the same time, everyone almost reflexively became proficient at pushing magazines and novels into their school bags, sitting straight, fake-holding a pen without writing, seriously looking at the blackboard while calculating whether the homeroom teacher has left, and after a moment of silence, hearing the commotion in the back, yes, the alert is lifted... Former classmates, former teachers, former campus, have gradually drifted away, leaving only imperfect memories. But in one year and one month, we will no longer be in high school.After graduation, we will no longer set multiple alarms to rush ourselves up. We will no longer drag our still-awake brains to school at a jog. We will no longer worry about being late or being penalized for duty calls. We will no longer carry bags of breakfast bags and drowsily rush into class on time. We will no longer pretend to study with a thick stack of books blocking reading novels, nor worry about teachers catching us while playing on their phones. We will no longer pretend to sleep because we want to listen to music but fear the teacher will take away our headphones. We will no longer have to count the end of class every moment. We will no longer expect power outages or various reasons and then school holidays. We will no longer secretly give teachers nicknames and be smug; we will no longer worry about a pile of test papers. No more waiting at the school gate for fear of being late or losing points. No more secretly filming and pranking classmates when they're off guard. No more worrying about bad hair forcing you to go to the school gate barbershop for fixes. No more pranks to film you and pretend you're just passing by. No more people will argue with you over trivial matters. No more people will drag you to the bathroom after class. No more people will keep watch while you're playing on your phone but occasionally scare you. No more will anyone go to every trouble to beg you to contact you via text before exams. No more people will lie to you by saying the teacher wants you to go. Silently holding onto the past, the years you can't keep, the endless longing and sorrow. It's another time of separation, but next year's separation will only bring sadness. Only after leaving a place and hearing classmates say 'take care' at part, hearing brothers and sisters' helplessness at parting, did I realize that all that could leave me was only sorrow.
One year and one month later. Do we suddenly want to turn back time? Resolve to cherish every minute and every second. But realize it's just an illusion, and only a fantasy. Then quietly reminiscing alone. Recalling the past few years, recalling everyone we once crossed paths with. Memories bring a blurred feeling and tears to the eyes.
One year and one month later. Will we embrace everyone and thank them for giving us more or less spring-like warmth? Desperately trying to hide our tears with smiles. Saying in our hearts: Goodbye, goodbye, I must meet again.Perhaps smiles will collapse, and we will hold each other, crying until our eyes are red, yet still quietly thinking: goodbye, goodbye, we must meet again.\ Next summer. Where you are, I will be there. Goodbye, our high school.\ That day is slowly approaching us.\ College entrance exam! Next summer, it will be our turn.\ After graduating from the third year of high school, is it farewell, or a final goodbye?\ This time last year, I foolishly watched the students about to graduate from the third year, with a kind of envious look.\ When it's our turn to leave, there's some reluctance. My heart feels something indescribable.\ These days before graduation, time passes like flowing sand, seemingly long, yet constantly slipping away; trying to hold it, reaching out, the limited time quietly slips through our fingers.\ Some memories, we have not forgotten, yet time has faded them.\ Sometimes, some people don't need to say goodbye, and yet they have already left. Sometimes, some things, we understand without saying much; sometimes, those roads seem endless, those matters, those people, and that moment have already become memories…\ Perhaps in the future, because of time, none of us can accompany each other. Because of distance, we can no longer see the one we love, eventually losing contact.\ But if one day I think of you, those memories that cannot be erased from my mind. If one day we meet on the street, it will be a surprise given by heaven. So, I firmly believe, that one day, we will all meet again.\ Time flows like water, life cycles on.\ When we step into society, many things are beyond our control, so we change, become strangers, become hypocritical… The friendship of the past is still cherished, still unforgettable. Some backgrounds linger in memory, never vanishing.\ Familiar ones, have parted\ Noisy ones, have calmed\ Strange ones, have disappeared\ What remains, has dispersed\ We are about to graduate.\ Graduated, youth comes to an end.\ I hope one day, we will gather together again…\ We wait for the next beginning, striving to find our own happiness. (left)
