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致十六岁的阿书:我昨晚久违地梦到那个人了,那时你暗恋着的人。他骑着橙黄色烧包十足的自行车风车电掣地从你眼前划过,帅气无比,一个急速的完美转弯,但是在平地,他居然车轮打滑,挣扎着摔了个狗吃屎。我觉得他好糗,而你却觉得他蠢得可爱。我现在和你一样,也是孑然一身。不同的是,你心里有个沉甸甸的人,并且可以毫不计较地去喜欢他。但我不行,我不再毫无保留地去开始一份喜欢,我会量化它的结果,如果没有可能或者不值得,我会聪明地隔岸观火,看着像你这样的傻子义无反顾地飞蛾扑火。你会偷偷地在深夜的自行车棚里放上一瓶他爱喝的饮料,不让他知道是谁。
To A 16-year-old book: I last night dreaming of that person, when you crush people. He rode an orange-yellowed pack full of windmills tied in front of you, extremely handsome and a quick perfect turn, but in the flat, he actually skidded wheels, struggling to fall a dog to eat shit. I think he is good, but you think he is too stupid. I am just like you now, and I am alone. The difference is, you have a heavy heart, and can love him without any hesitation. But I can not, I no longer unreservedly start a like, I will quantify its results, if it is not possible or not worth it, I will cleverly side by side watching the fire, looking like a fool like you mourn the fire . You will secretly put a bottle of his favorite drink in the late-night bike shed, let him know who it is.