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Everyone has his own forest.
Maybe we have never been there.
But it's always there, and those who are lost are lost,
Those who meet will meet again.
——Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood
I sat by the window in the library, the sun shone through the leaves and cast mottled shadows on the table. Libraries everywhere are like this, time flows quietly, with only the rustling sound of pens and paper and the occasional keyboard sound.
I held my chin with my hand and flipped through the somewhat worn book that had been repaired. Through the black words, I saw the people and things that had once been around me.
He lowered his head and tears dripped onto the paper, leaving a circle of wrinkled marks, which just happened to circle the word "like".
"I love you the most, Midori."
"To what extent?"
"Like a bear in the spring."
"A spring bear?" Midori raised her head again. "What spring bear?"
"You are walking alone in a spring field, and a cute little bear comes over. His fur is like velvet, and his eyes are round. He says to you, 'Hello, lady. Would you like to roll over with me?' Then, you and the little bear roll down the clover-covered hillside, playing for a whole day. Isn't it great?"
"marvelous."
"That's how much I like you."
I stroked the words on the paper and slowly closed my eyes. There was once someone who made me love him like this. He was the warmest sunshine in spring and gave me ultimate warmth.
Memories of the past surged in, torn apart by the cold reality, leaving an unhealable wound. The faces of those whom I once loved and who loved me became clearer and clearer at both ends of the wound.
My chest felt like it was covered with cement, which quickly solidified and enveloped my numb heart, making it hard to breathe. All the faces in my memory became hideous, and they were shouting and yelling one after another.
Ji Suting said: "Cun Zhiwei, can you please not hurt me the same way you hurt yourself every time?"
Ren Xiaoqi said: "Cun Zhiwei, don't ever think of escaping from me in your life."
Yan Wenbo said: "Cun Zhiwei, I don't know what to say to you."
Shi Shuxia said: "Cun Zhiwei, you are my best friend."
…
All the sounds intertwined in my memories, then magnified infinitely, and finally exploded like fireworks. I opened my eyes hastily, and everything was still quiet in front of me. In my hand, I still held the book "Norwegian Wood" that I once couldn't understand but now read over and over again.
Haruki Murakami said that everyone has a forest of his own. Maybe we have never walked through it, but it is always there. Those who are lost are lost, and those who meet will meet again.
Will I meet you again?
