To my beloved Natasha:
It is already impossible for me to recall the first time we met. At that time, I was three and you were two, so it made perfect sense that both of us are unable to do so. But then, I am still able remember the first time that I ever paid attention to you.
You were sitting in the garden, looking as attractive as ever, watching that incarnadine rose wither and drop off onto your hand. I had barely recognized you then, always seeing you so positive and full with energy; you just did not seem to fit in this despondent yet elegant scene. Who knew what you were thinking then, gazing at the chrysanthemums ahead of you, so trapped in your own world that you didn't even seem to hear me after calling you thrice.
Alas, I abandoned the thought of gaining your attention and decided to keep on 'stalking' you. Scattering those crimson rose petals onto the ground, you forced yourself to smile. It might have been difficult for others to tell the difference between your fake and your real, but it was as clear as crystal to me that you felt depressed. I never planned on asking you what happened on that day; you had your own privacy to things, after all.
Your hand dropped suddenly after a few seconds, and the moment you clutched your heart I knew something was wrong with you with your heart disease. I had wanted to rush over to you, give you a hug and ask you what was amiss, but my legs couldn't budge and my voice just couldn't seem to work.
It seemed like forever until I heard an unfamiliar voice call out my name. But when I turned around, there was no one near me, with you as an exception. You bit your lip, tilted your head to the ground and forced out a smile again. You glanced at me, and for a moment I thought your intention was to mock me. But never did I expect that cold and unconcerned gaze that came from you. Looking back at that delicate hand of yours, you stood up and walked towards me. I barely heard your voice as you passed by, and it was then when I realised that the unfamiliar voice that called me was yours.
Your voice seemed so strange than your usual tone; it was hoarse and soft, and I could not make out the words you whispered to me that day. Had it been my imagination, or were those tears that shimmered in your eyes real? You had no idea how I urged to hug you, to wipe those tears away, to try and dismiss the desperation in your voice……
And at that single moment, I was sure that I fell in love at such a young age, with a girl so attractive I couldn't take my eyes off her. And that girl, needless to say, is you, my beloved Natasha, and that fact would not change for quite a long time.
This isn't the first time I have written a love letter to you. I'm sure that by now, you are already completely aware of my feelings towards you. All I ask of you, Natasha, is to let me stay by your side and witness every single moment of your joy and sorrow.
That is all.
Oh yes, and one more thing: I love you.
Yours sincerely,
Justin
It is already impossible for me to recall the first time we met. At that time, I was three and you were two, so it made perfect sense that both of us are unable to do so. But then, I am still able remember the first time that I ever paid attention to you.
You were sitting in the garden, looking as attractive as ever, watching that incarnadine rose wither and drop off onto your hand. I had barely recognized you then, always seeing you so positive and full with energy; you just did not seem to fit in this despondent yet elegant scene. Who knew what you were thinking then, gazing at the chrysanthemums ahead of you, so trapped in your own world that you didn't even seem to hear me after calling you thrice.
Alas, I abandoned the thought of gaining your attention and decided to keep on 'stalking' you. Scattering those crimson rose petals onto the ground, you forced yourself to smile. It might have been difficult for others to tell the difference between your fake and your real, but it was as clear as crystal to me that you felt depressed. I never planned on asking you what happened on that day; you had your own privacy to things, after all.
Your hand dropped suddenly after a few seconds, and the moment you clutched your heart I knew something was wrong with you with your heart disease. I had wanted to rush over to you, give you a hug and ask you what was amiss, but my legs couldn't budge and my voice just couldn't seem to work.
It seemed like forever until I heard an unfamiliar voice call out my name. But when I turned around, there was no one near me, with you as an exception. You bit your lip, tilted your head to the ground and forced out a smile again. You glanced at me, and for a moment I thought your intention was to mock me. But never did I expect that cold and unconcerned gaze that came from you. Looking back at that delicate hand of yours, you stood up and walked towards me. I barely heard your voice as you passed by, and it was then when I realised that the unfamiliar voice that called me was yours.
Your voice seemed so strange than your usual tone; it was hoarse and soft, and I could not make out the words you whispered to me that day. Had it been my imagination, or were those tears that shimmered in your eyes real? You had no idea how I urged to hug you, to wipe those tears away, to try and dismiss the desperation in your voice……
And at that single moment, I was sure that I fell in love at such a young age, with a girl so attractive I couldn't take my eyes off her. And that girl, needless to say, is you, my beloved Natasha, and that fact would not change for quite a long time.
This isn't the first time I have written a love letter to you. I'm sure that by now, you are already completely aware of my feelings towards you. All I ask of you, Natasha, is to let me stay by your side and witness every single moment of your joy and sorrow.
That is all.
Oh yes, and one more thing: I love you.
Yours sincerely,
Justin
没人茶楼！
刚才赶出来的……见谅见谅……
这位……到底有没有看懂啊你……
