Yicheng, Richard and Anthony

Miss Ferryman

Reading through some blogs sent by friends in China, I heard about a Singing competition going on. The art center was crowded, and your face suddenly appeared in my view. You seemed exhilarated, and within a blink, those similar feelings came right back to me. My hands began to sweat, and my heart began to speed up, but then there was a voice in my head. It’s already over. It’s just a crush, that’s it. I stared at that blog, and all the memories flashed back through my mind. It seemed like a dreamy movie.

We were friends. You were popular and had straight A’s, and I was still trying to fit in this new school. I started hanging around with you all the time for no reason. I seemed to be afraid of loneliness and felt that vacancy would eat me alive if there was no company around. I am afraid of being surrounded by a deadly silence. We did all kinds of things together: we shared the same birthday, the same music taste, even our homes were so close. It was an afternoon. I was sitting in the back of the classroom. With an accidental glance, I saw your hair was nearly translucent under the sunshine from the only opened window. You appeared to be working extremely hard on some problems and got stuck. Your fingers were tapping on the desk with a miracle rhythm. It touched the deepest part of my heart. I could only see the contour of your nose and lips, and that was the moment I found my heart beating like the steps of tango.

That evening, I got an email from CSN. I was accepted. I was welcomed to attend next semester. It took almost a month to finish the transition and to get the visa prepared. You did not show up at the airport to see me off. It was the first day of the new year, and the airport was empty. I saw my parents waving hands until they became small dots blocked by the Customs glass door. My legs were trembling because of my deadweight backpack and from the terror of the unknown world. There was no way to turn back. You used to push me onto the stage to finish our presentation, and now I tried as hard as I could to cut down all the connection between us. But somehow, I felt guilty to have a crush on my best friend, and I insisted that good friends should never have relationships, because if anything goes wrong, there is no way back, not even to be friends. I believe my foolish crush is a stain on all those precious memories. I cannot even look at you directly, for I fear any move would destroy everything we have built up.
I feel guilty.

A new, completely different story began on another side of the ocean. The first part was pretty similar. With a different language, it made it even harder to fit in. I tried everything I could to sharpen myself, and I tried to squeeze into this community that was already full. Finally, I made friends, but no matter how hard I tried, there seemed to be unseen walls between us, and I could not break it. So, the connections ended up sticking in some embarrassing place called “not close, but familiar.” Here, everyone seems to be on his or her own tracks, and I am slowly learning to be funny when I feel awkward.

I still have a Polaroid of you in my wallet. You seem to have fallen over and broken your arm, but you are still trying to pose with others. You’ve got your new glasses on with your old blue uniform and a red shirt. You used to call yourself Miss Ferryman because you thought it was a cool last name.

My dear Miss Ferryman,
What would have happened if I asked you out in the first place? Would that be painful or sweet? For this, I have no answer. I only have loads of memories, warm as sunshine.

I spend hours sitting in front of a computer, searching in the ocean of English language, just trying to write down something to read, to think, to wonder, to remember.

What is love? Love is the mark of love hormone on the cerebral cortex. Love is the feeling of state and attitude from interpersonal affection to pleasure. But no matter how accurate the definition is, I think Shakespeare already give the best analysis:
“So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. ”

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