I don’t even remember where I first met him. He said it was at the Hunan Grand Theatre, watching Rhinoceros in Love, back in our first year of high school. I really can’t remember if Rhinoceros in Love was during a school club festival or at the Hunan Grand Theatre. If it was at the theatre, and I’m not misremembering, I cried while listening to Malu’s monologue. Malu was too extreme—so hysterical, so fixated on Mingming. Obsessive, stubborn, going down one path to the very end. I thought I wouldn’t like that kind of intensity, that kind of irrational state—but I found that from a safe distance, I was deeply moved.

We hadn’t talked in ages. I asked him if I’d changed, and he said no. He also said he’d never forget meeting me during that play. He got the ticket from someone else, and after the play, he saw me sitting behind him. I don’t remember if I was sitting behind him, but I do remember running into him after some performance, and we walked part of the way home together. He said that stretch of road from the provincial library to my house was his favorite. I don’t know if he meant it. Maybe he says things like that to everyone.

I can’t imagine, if he was telling the truth, what his girlfriend must think. Or maybe she’s just incredibly gracious, composed, thoughtful—someone who walks with him through all his curiosity and exploration, supporting him from the sidelines, patiently waiting for him to return. Yeah, she does seem like that kind of person.

And me? I’m not that at all. I’m selfish, I’m bossy, I’m stubborn and inappropriate. My personality is explosive—I say whatever I think, I don’t play games, I don’t have patience, I’m lazy, I want to run away when things get messy. The moment I see complicated relationships, I just want to escape. Someone like me could never compare to someone so composed and steady. I think I know myself pretty well.

It seems like I’m always that person others are curious about, want to understand, but end up backing off from, or keeping at arm’s length—unable to commit, unwilling to let go. Or the one they cling to, afraid to lose, yet never really work with me. Or worse, just someone to play with for a while, no thought for consequences. Every time, the aftermath feels like surviving a nuclear blast. My heart and mind blown to pieces, and I’m left alone in the wreckage, putting myself back together, bit by bit.