△ 128｜Confession
In the student days, some very common things are always attached to a lot of rituals, and “confession” is one of the rituals. The only “sense of ritual” I had when I was a student was telling my friends that I probably didn’t live to be 30 years old.
I’m not a romantic person, so I always joke with people that I’m “too lazy”. Last year, I was hospitalized because of illness. My wife returned to the ward from the doctor and told me, who was in a daze, that my current condition was very serious, and the fatality rate was over 30%. I should have lost consciousness at that time, but then my wife told me that I cried at that time and said I wanted to live.
Look, people’s survival instinct will still betray a person’s outrageous sense of ritual in the middle and second period.
When I was a student, I experienced a lot of confessions, and I generally existed as a bystander. At that time, I realized that I seem to be able to detect the emotional changes of the very subtle branches, whether one person likes another person, or whether one person is disgusted with another person, I can detect it. It was at that time that I noticed the subtle affection between the head teacher and a student.
Now, although this taboo relationship is not “illegal”, it is a teacher-student relationship after all, and there is a subtle “contract” relationship between them, and this contract actually has an invisible clause – they don’t. Eligible to be together and not allowed to be together. This subtle feeling has always existed, and I was aware of it, so that several students who had a good relationship with the teacher gradually realized that something was wrong. There were a few times when they didn’t intend to mention this possibility, and I instead behaved calmly. When pressed, I said, “Actually, I’ve already seen it.” As a result, I’ve been isolated since then, because the teacher may suddenly realize that I’m a terrible student.
I was caught in the middle because the boy was my roommate at the time, and he showed me a plan to “confess”. Although he didn’t say who the confessor was, I kept advising him to give up. This plan. What happened to them later, I don’t know, because after being isolated by the teacher, I no longer know what happened to them. The last time I heard about them was that the boy got married, and he was definitely not the teacher at that time.
Why I remember this story, I haven’t been able to find an explanation yet, because during the period of recovery from a serious illness, this strange memory was always transferred from the hippocampus. Because I have never “confessed” before, I tried my best to fill in a memory about confession from this strange memory.
Oh yes, I helped him think about that confession, but when I realized that the object of his confession was the teacher, I suddenly felt a sense of guilt being assigned.
Another story is to see a circle of friends of others.
He sent a teenager, a relative of his friend, to the airport. Before leaving at the airport, the child was about to have sex with him in the car. But he stopped the other party in the moment. He said that it wasn’t that he didn’t like each other, but that he didn’t want to maintain the relationship. He was in his forties and felt very troublesome.
The other party said it was okay, and it was a one-night stand. He asked, “Why do you want to have a one-night stand with me.”
The other person replied: “Because it is very interesting, it is a pleasure to chat with you.”
He continued to ask, “Then you slept with me this time, do you still want to chat with me to sleep?”
“Of course!”
“Then it’s not a one-night stand, it’s a mutual affection.”
The other party asked with a crying voice: “What should I do? I really like you.”
He was helpless: “Then this contradicts my original intention. I like you too, but I can’t be irresponsible.”
Then the other party cried: “I have never met someone like me, if only I were younger.”
He ended the topic with a joke: “Speak well, I’m not old yet.”
The other party immediately changed his words: “If only I was born a few years earlier.”
He touched the other person’s head, and didn’t even intend to leave the kiss. At that moment, he said that he really felt that he was a middle-aged man and that he should be responsible for his every behavior.
For some reason, this story also touched me a lot, and like that strange memory, both of them were about confessions, both of them were similar, one confessed too early and the other too late. A confession is at an age when one of them is too easy to get distracted by confession, and a confession is at an age where one of them won’t get distracted by confession anymore.
At the age of writing “pain literature”, I probably said something: confessions are always regrettable, because they are always said too early or too late. This sentence is like the open ending of some kind of youth romance novel. Although we don’t know whether the protagonist has confessed or not, these blank spaces always make people daydream-after all, only the existence of regret is the most perfect.
I probably remembered why this memory appeared when I was recovering from a serious illness, because I realized at that time that some confessions were either too early or too late.
That’s why I kept saying “I love you” to you when I woke up.
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