佚名/Anonymous
Can you still find this day,my dear,among your possessions?
Among the souvenirs of your trips to faraway lands,the textbooks from those halcyon days when you walked the hallowed portals of that engineering college,the cassettes whose covers were left behind after one of those bacchanalian sessions in the hostel,the photographs of those classmates whose names you cant remember?Or is it hidden in the darkness,put out of sight along with the book you bought but never read,the gift you never quite found a use for and the letters you never finished or sent.I can still find it here,in the city,in the house,which you have never visited,in the kitchen where I have imaginary conversations with you.It is here even when I am not,for I go out now,leaving the light on and the music playing,so I can return home to the illusion of company.
I am probably better off now.Without secrets to keep from my parents.Without someone to come between me and my friends,me and my pastimes,me and my work,me and my sensible,understandable,utilitarian life.The life that I keep trying,keep failing to bring in line with the expectations that I keep trying,keep failing to make my own.It is not that I always feel like this,sometimes I yearn for those days when tears and laughter both came easy.Those easy and quick transitions from ecstasy to despair.When a compliment could keep my mind occupied for hours on end and a harsh word could prick like a pin the same skin which now seems dry and insensitive.Like probably millions around the world,I look outside the window of a crowded bus,lost in my own thoughts and wonder how it could happen to me.
Was I not supposed to be different from the rest?Not for the silly schoolgirl infatuation with the football team captain or the fascination with the good for nothing,pot-smoking aspiring poet.Ours was a mature friendship that had blossomed into more.How could I feel a pang of envy then,when you lent a helping hand to another girl,when you spoke about someone whos far away and about to be married,when you were so involved in the book you were reading that you did not notice that we never met all day?When we decided that it had been too long and that we should meet,I carefully started preparing a package for you.A small poem,that book you always wanted but never found,an old photograph and a bar of chocolate for us to share.What would I wear and what would we talk about?The package still remains in my drawer waiting for the phone to ring again.
It was a rainy Sunday afternoon when we sat in my tiny hostel room,discussing capitalism and campus gossip with equal fevor.When it seemed as if those conversations could last forever and we would never tire of them.When Joni Mitchell sang“California”seven times on continuous play before we thought of getting out.
Then one day suddenly we were looking for each other.You were always somewhere else,doing something else and strangely enough so was I.Those new people I met on that trip and that junior guy who loved the same movies I do.That girl next door who took math lessons from you.My room was almost always locked and yours was no different.We seemed to have discovered a whole world outside of ourselves all of a sudden.The tragedy was we had also lost the world we had before.
Then came the rescue mission.The loud fights in the hostel wing,the long silences and the desperate angry notes.Frustration,anxiety and even love revealing itself in the ugliest possible ways.Then indifference,complacency and resignation.Calm,dispassionate discussions on how we could stay friends.The decision that we should always let the other know when we would be around.Thats when I started leaving those yellow post-its on the door.Those yellow post-its which by the time I came back would have your coordinates that I never used.If we had all of them now,they would be telling this tale a lot better than I am now.
Back home,I still continue leaving those post-its to this day,hoping that someone will write their whereabouts on them as well.
親愛的，在你的記憶寶庫裏，還能找回這一天嗎？
在你從遙遠的異鄉帶回的諸多紀念品中，記載著你跨入神聖的工學院門檻後的青春歲月；在那些大學課本當中，在那些一盒盒舊磁帶當中，以及那一張張老照片當中——上麵好多同學的名字你已不記得；你還記得麽？而那黃色便條是否在這些舊物中呢？是不是暗藏在別處，與那本你買了但一直沒看的書放在一起呢，或許與那些毫無用處的禮品和從沒寫完或沒寄出的信放在一塊兒？
我的便條仍在，就在這座城市裏，在這所你從沒來過的房子裏。我曾在廚房裏，回想與你談話的情景。即使我不在家，它們也一直在那兒。如今，即便我上街了，也會開著房間的燈，放著音樂，這樣當我回來時，就會有種錯覺——家裏有人在等我。
現在，我改變了很多——不再有需要瞞著父母的秘密，不再有人過問我和朋友，不再有人關心我如何打發無聊時光，不再有人願意傾聽我對工作的看法，也不再有人理解我對生活的感受，我知道現實生活就是這樣。我不斷地努力，試著讓日子過得簡單有序而又充滿希望，試著尋找真正屬於自己的生活。當然，我並不總這麽想。偶爾，我會特別渴望回到那些大喜大悲的日子。記得從前，我的情感可在瞬間從狂喜轉至絕望。別人的幾句奉承話會讓我興奮幾個小時，而一句惡語能讓我有如針紮般刺痛，但如今，原本敏感的我早已幹澀麻木。也許跟世上數百萬普通人一樣，我會從擁擠的公交車上向外張望，茫茫然，不知所措。
我是不是不該與眾不同？我既沒像一般小女生那樣迷戀校足球隊長，也沒有對那個一無是處、煙不離手的未來詩人念念不忘。我們之間有著足以升華的成熟友誼。可是，當你向別的女孩伸出援助之手，當你提到遠方的某人快要結婚，當你隻顧看書而沒意識到我們已一整天沒見麵時，為什麽我都會感到一種莫名的嫉妒？當我們太久沒它，而你終究與我見麵時，我為你精心準備了一個大禮包。一首小詩、一本你一直想要但沒找到的書、一張舊照片、一塊可供兩人分享的巧克力。我該穿什麽衣服呢？我們該談論些什麽話題呢？這個禮包至今還放在我的抽屜裏，期待著電話的再次響起。
那是一個星期天下午，下著雨，在我那間狹小的宿舍裏，我們充滿**地談論資本主義，談論校園裏的八卦新聞。這些話題似乎永無止境，而我們也永遠都不倦怠。瓊妮·米歇爾的那首California反複放了七遍，我們才想起該出去走走了。
但是，突然有一天，我們開始互相找尋。你總是在別的地方，做著別的事情，奇怪的是，我也一樣。在一次旅途中我結識了一些新朋友，遇到了一個跟我喜歡同一些電影的男生。你也結識了那個向你請教數學題的鄰家女生。我的房門總是鎖著，你的也一樣。我們似乎突然都找到了彼此以外的另一個世界，可悲的是，以前屬於我們倆之間的世界就這樣被遺棄了。
於是，我們試圖補救。我們常會在宿舍側樓上大吵大鬧，相互僵持好久，然後氣憤而絕情地留言。沮喪、焦慮，甚至是愛，都以最醜陋的方式表現出來。繼而是冷漠、自負和放棄。我們冷靜而理智地商量著彼此仍繼續做朋友，還決定繼續告知對方自己的行蹤。也就那時，我開始在門上貼那些黃色便條。當我回到家時，就會發現便條的空白處有你的新留言。如果現在我們都還保留著這些便條，它們一定會更完整地敘述我們的故事。
如今，我回家後依然會在門上貼便條，希望有人將他們的行蹤寫在上麵。
詞匯筆記
imaginary[im?d?in?ri]adj.想像中的；假想的；虛構的
My little daughter has an imaginary friend.
我的小女兒有個想像中的朋友。
illusion[ilju:??n]n.錯覺；幻想；錯誤觀念
The sun appears to go round the Earth,but its an illusion.
太陽看起來好像繞著地球轉，但這隻是個錯覺。
indifference[?nd?f?r?ns]n.不關心，不在乎
He treated me with indifference.
他對我漠不關心。
complacency[k?mple?s?nsi:]n.自滿；自得；自鳴得意
Be modest in learning,for complacency is the enemy of
study.
學習要虛心，自滿是敵人。
小試身手
我不斷地努力，試著讓日子過得簡單有序而又充滿希望，試著尋找真正屬於自己的生活。
別人的幾句奉承話會讓我興奮幾個小時，而一句惡語能讓我有如針紮般刺痛，但如今原本敏感的我早已幹澀麻木。
短語家族
Was I not supposed to be different from the rest?
Be supposed to：應該；被期望
We seemed to have discovered a whole world outside of ourselves all of a sudden.
Seem to：好像