pistachio

294.

Comparing my phone screen with mine, I felt like everything around me was imaginary. I looked over and over at the messages I'd sent and received. I called, but no one answered. My hesitation was like this scene of darkness, falling every night.

It’s useless. If you don’t know who it is, it’s useless.

295.

Reply? Maybe it's a trick; ignore? It seems like a failure.

I replied.

296.

Me: Who are you?

Unknown number: Not important.

Me: What do you want to do?

Unknown Number: Listen to your voice.

Me: Then?

Unknown Number: Good night.

What does this mean? This is information I can't process, for one.

297.

That day, I couldn't sleep again, and the medicine didn't help. I called a few more times, but the phone was turned off. How many days and nights are two years? Who was making that sound? Me, or the violin? Perhaps the other party knew where I lived, where I was, where I went, and I knew nothing.

298.

I hadn't been to that box in winter for a long time. The text messages stopped coming for a while, until I mistakenly thought they were sent to the wrong person. I was about to forget about it, and then it came again.

Another unknown number: Do you like going home recently?

Another unknown number: Why don’t you practice the piano anymore?

Should I pretend I didn't see it? But what if I get one like this again? Is this home? When I'm alone, maybe it's just the place I'm most familiar with. Do I have much to be reluctant to leave? The furniture is old, but the text messages are still new.

Me: Who are you?

Me: Do you want to meet me?

Me: Do you like observing others? I don’t like you observing me.

Another unknown number: Really?

Another unknown number: I know where you are without having to meet you.

I pulled open the curtains and tried to watch, but it was no use. All I saw was the loneliness I had chosen. When a bruise is about to disappear, it turns from a concentrated purple to a diffuse yellow. I saw my heart change color.

Me: Why?

Me: Is this your mission?

Another unknown number: Does not count.

Me: Tell me who you are.

Another unknown number: No.

Me: Tell me your gender.

Another unknown number: Same as you.

I think I know.

299.

This time I didn't suffer from insomnia. I thought, maybe it doesn't matter to me. At worst, I can stop going to that island every weekend. But I'm not there, so where can I reminisce?

The five-year college entrance exams are numerous, and the course load is intense. In September, I'm hoping for an above-average grade. In October, I'm aiming for a stable average. In November, I'm thinking about Xu Jiaheng. Is he as exhausted as I am? Can he adapt to the new environment? How's his popularity now? Does he also occasionally receive confusing text messages and stare at the screen, bewildered?

What shape does longing take? Perhaps it's like the sea.

Is he safe too? Why didn't he text me? Or was he, like me, hesitating before sending the message?

300.

During the final midterm exam, my longing gradually guided me. I wanted to be like him, to imitate his smile, his tone, his hobbies, so that in front of the mirror, he would become my reflection. Right?

Qiu Yang said that's wrong. You can't imitate someone and become who they are. You're better off being yourself. What does it have to do with him when I say who I am? Why do I have to face his interference every time I make a choice? We've only seen each other a few times and aren't familiar with each other.

He had a thousand reasons to argue with me, a thousand ways to refute me. I disagreed with all of them. I just felt it was time to stop arguing; it was a real headache.

Near the end of the month, he asked me if I wanted to go to the junior high school reunion on New Year's Day. I said no, I was going home. He said Xu Jiaheng was there too, and I said I'd go home after the reunion.

301.

“Does being a high school student require so much change?” he asked me.

"I don't understand what you're saying." I really don't understand why Xu Jiaheng would argue with me whether he was close to us or far away. I thought about it for a long time, but I still don't understand.

"Are you popular?" he asked me.

"Does it have anything to do with you?" Does it? Really?

"What brings you to this extent?"

"Change is sometimes just a split-second decision. We are not the same kind of people. Even if I explain it to you nicely, you won't understand."

"Do you think you have a lot of friends now?"

I think you have a lot of questions.

"Not much, but enough."

"Do you really want this?"

"I can't help it."

“Being everyone’s happy pill will only make others think you are cheap.”

Maybe he was right, but with so many classmates, I could choose not to interact with him. Yu Xinxin arrived and sat next to me. I ignored Qiu Yang and chatted with Yu Xinxin while waiting for Xu Jiaheng.

302.

We gathered at the barbecue restaurant run by Brother Qiu Yang, each chatting about their own things. Every new person was an unknown variable, or rather, a variable? The more people there were, the harder it was to control. I couldn't fathom the atmosphere. I didn't understand popularity either. I only knew that people changed to varying degrees, and fate was truly hard to predict.

303.

Maybe, I only know who I am waiting for, and maybe he won't show up. This is not a promise.

304.

He came, bringing Li Enhui with him. Seeing them side by side, I truly felt I'd made the wrong choice, again and again. If I didn't come, it would be a pity; if I came, it would be painful. It would be better to just go back home and reminisce about the time we sat at that dining table, and he pulled a wrinkled hamburger from his schoolbag.

My longing for her is useless now that she appears.

305.

Suddenly, I wasn't hungry anymore. I just wanted to leave. In situations like this, it's best to leave early and say you have other things to do. But I didn't know this at the time. I just knew that no matter how much I tried to imitate him, I wouldn't be like him. I wasn't him.

"What shall we drink?" I forget who asked first. Someone always had to liven things up, and there were always choices to be made.

"Coconut milk."

"Soda water."

"I'm a little sleepy, so I'd better drink Red Bull..."

I don't quite understand what the point of this party is. I'm only here because the person I want to see doesn't want to see me.

Xu Jiaheng sat next to Qiu Yang, and Li Enhui added a stool and sat next to Qiu Yang.

306.

When Dongdong is getting closer to me, he is actually getting farther and farther away from me, right?

How do I restore this distance?

307.

Last time I contacted you, you asked me to bring you blueberry bread, but I didn't. So you're angry, right? I'll bring it to you next time. Will that calm you down? I lowered my head and didn't ask.

308.

After the meeting, I walked back alone. I looked up and saw the stars. There was also a text message.

309.

I changed my number again. Maybe it was the same person, maybe not. The path I'd walked kept reminding me—you've been standing still for too long, too long. Should I stop thinking about Xu Jiaheng, stop that possession that didn't even exist in the first place? Then, what should I do with my feelings? The longer I boil, the thicker they become.

Arrived home, checked everything as usual, sighed. Reply.

Me: What do you want to confirm by sending me this text message?

After a long time, the other party replied, "I want to confirm whether you and your changes are enough." I said no, I have no way out. Your confirmation is also meaningless. The other party asked:

What is the meaning?

310.

There are so many answers to this question that I can’t find the most suitable one and I hesitate again.

The meaning of moving is to escape or reshape; the meaning of imitation is to learn or save oneself; the meaning of food is to satisfy hunger or enjoy, and my meaning is that it is the endless source of fear that keeps me going.

311.

I didn’t reply because my meaning is meaningless to people I don’t know. That’s what I think.

312.

New Year, Xu Jiaheng, are you still happy? Even without me.

313.

I called Xu Jiaheng, but he said he was playing games and hung up. He said he'd get back to me later, but I waited, feeling like I didn't want to. The cigarette butts in the vase from years ago seemed to be crying and helpless.

Winter break is just a few days away, and I've been so overwhelmed with homework that I've barely had time to care for my hobbies. Maybe this is just how high school has changed? I don't quite understand. After finishing my homework, I still have to take extra classes, just barely keeping up. I never went to that church again.

I dream of him less and less, his face inevitably vague. I'm doing my own homework, counting the pages, counting how long it's been since we've eaten shaved ice face to face. When will you call me? Which floor did you move to? Have you dreamed of me even once? Do you still like stars? Which one?

Do you love her?

That would be better, then I would be convinced.

314.

The more I accept it, the angrier I get. Is she good? I can like blueberries, or whatever you like. Tell me, I like what you like best. Don't like everything but me.

Homework finished, vacation over. My grades have dropped, and surprisingly, the number of love letters has decreased. Is it my fault for not reading carefully? It's late now, and I'm living in that crooked "Good Morning" scribbled on the wall. There are no stars in the afternoon, but this night isn't lonely for me.

Good night, Xu Jiaheng.

Sweet dreams.