Today, while organizing my cabinet, I came across the weekly journals I kept with my homeroom teacher last semester. I couldn't resist opening them and reading from the first page to the last.
That semester, we talked about everything. You once said I was a girl who was 'too restless to be quiet.' You compared me to a time bomb that could explode anytime, which was why you had to pay extra attention to me. You remarked that my heart was truly elusive and that you couldn't quite get into it, wondering who really could. You encouraged me that since I had chosen this school, I needed to stick with it. You noted that I cried too often and asked me not to let tears fall easily, warning that Tears lose their value when shed too frequently. You also mentioned that it was a great luck to know me and our class. Finally, you told me not to miss you too much during the holidays.
That semester, you cared for me so deeply; you tried so hard to understand me; you encouraged me so much; and you cherished us so profoundly. I hope you never change and that you will still be with our class next semester. The reason is simple, and it's what you often said: spending time together always leads to genuine affection.