Freshman Year (First Semester)

I say: University is a really strange place.. I say: The people around me always seem to keep a distance from me. I used to think that after high school, since everyone was no longer competing for the college entrance exams, we could become closer friends. But it seems I was wrong. Many people give me a very strange feeling, and some are willing to sacrifice their friendships for tiny benefits. I say: As people grow older, they become less innocent. I say: Sometimes I feel like I’ve really grown up. I say: Most people have their own thoughts, and being with them always feels strange. There are some things that can’t be said. I say: Hehe, it’s great to have some genuine friends. I say: Maybe life itself is just strange～ I say: University is a place like this — when you’re striving for something, you often feel like you’re not good enough, but the pain of failure disappears quickly, to the point where after a while, you forget what you once “swore” to do. I say: “Responsibility” is perhaps the hardest lesson to learn, but fortunately, I’ve already started learning it. I say: 19 is the last year before I turn 2X, and I’m about to enter a new age group. I say: The confusion of the freshman phase is finally going away, and that feeling is really not good. I say: …

• A line of helplessness ==-

It’s been a year of university, hahaha, I’m no longer a freshman. I still remember the feeling when I first reported to school, a bit nervous, like I was going to a military camp. I didn’t sleep well on the first night～

Actually, the first year was still pretty glorious — I once walked to Tiananmen Square at midnight and saw a different square under the night sky. I once gave a passionate speech on the debate stage, refuting my opponents. I once sat in front of the computer, designing a pattern until late at night. And it seems I also taught someone how to use Dreamweaver. What else did I do? Um, I organized a trip with the class leader and hosted a debate competition. What else?

Life is always passing by in endless repetition, so when I look back, I feel like every day is so ordinary.

But actually, what we call memories aren’t necessarily about what we did at a particular moment, but a feeling, or the feeling of a certain period. Except for the rhythm of the music, nothing can express it.

I’ll stop writing here for now.