q1000yeahs' Summer Special - For Summer Festival of Arts Division

Author/Artist: q1000yeahsq1000yeahs
Translator: JochoiJochoi
Source: SCP-CN
Link: q1000yeahs的暑期特别活动-参加绘画部门夏日祭


URL: remembersummer
tags: cn oo class-of-76 artwork



rating: 0+x

I am not the girl sitting behind you last semester.
You're right, you don't know me.
But you have to remember them.

Is there such a scene in your memories: Summer, blazing sunlight, blazing heat, but still comfortable in the shadows where it's cool. You could sleep in, but you're still woken up by your biological clock.
At the time there were no smartphones nor tablet computers, neither were there social networks. You contacted your friends with landline phones. Back when you were in the school you could see each other every day, but even in the summer holidays you weren't tired of it, instead, you kept in touch. You had endless topics to talk, the grown-ups at home called this burning the phone lines, and due to some practical financial issues, the adults had opposed your callings like this. If they were not to stop you, you could talk for hours.

You promised to meet up and play outside. You had more than one friend, and you called them on phone one by one. Perhaps you didn't take the initiative, you were the shy one, and they called you first to get you outside. Perhaps you already could not remember them. You couldn't remember the faces of every single one of them, you couldn't remember what's it on them that is attractive, you couldn't remember how they've touched your heart. But you could still remember the feeling at the time. Some day, you unintentionally heard a piece of music, an early pop song, and at that exact moment, you were brought back to the years, you could even smell that summer.

Heated summer activity starts here

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You walked along the riverbank. You shared comic books.
You exposed your secrets to each other in secret.
You nearly got in a fight when you were playing basketball.
You polished nails for each other. You exchanged diaries.

You wrote all your friends into your fictions, every one of them had an excellent setting. Such as, you were a melancholic secret agent, the girl sitting behind you had superpowers, your best friend is your boss, the "star classmate" of your little group was the smartest intellectual of the story. "Your boss" gave orders himself to punish you who broke the rules, but you weren't mad. Everything you've done and experienced had a meaning to it.

You shopped record stores. You bought magazines and read together. You copied your favourite lyrics in your diaries.
You hanged around in internet cafés for the whole afternoon, and told the mothers you were at the library. There were also computers in the library, and sometimes you had been at the library indeed, reading fictions on the computers. Stories of the knights, stories of the heroes, stories of the immortals, stories of the monsters, stories of puppy love, stories of roses and lilies, stories of the forbidden. Stories being despised by adults, stories you had concerned with the protagonists for.

You imagined each other's future. The futures you imagined were not very rigorous.
You shopped, spend and paid for meals like adults, the venues you chose were McDonald's or Kentucky's. You were not children anymore, you looked at primary schoolers and thought they were childish.
You never thought of departure.
You lined up across the road, blocking other pedestrians, troubling others. A bunch of impolite little idiots.
Friendship lasts forever, you had not a doubt.

You must have remembered that afternoon of the summer holidays. Yesterday you had a crazy day with your friends, and all of you were to stay at home today. You had an afternoon nap. You cat laid on the mat, so close to you, but wouldn't let you touch it. The house had gotten dark by time, muffled thunder was roaring out the sky, you were woke to a heavy rain.

Did you have a chance to meet up with you friends for a trip? Would your parents agree? You were a grown-up, but still a child. Perhaps you could talk your parents into it, perhaps you could join the summer camp. The summer camp is safe, with adults there, and many others of the same age as you, you and your friends would also join. Perhaps your parents are very enlightened, which would be known as "strong nerves" in modern days. They asked you where you would be going, with whom, a few females and a few males, then the parents gave you money, and you may set out.

The situation described above was rare. After all, you weren't American teenagers having a driving trip. But that didn't matter, you had your own happiness, you had your own important friends, you had your own unforgettable summer vacations.
These all weren't so far away from you. You had also experienced it. It wasn't just the matter of others.
They don't remember their thems, but you still remember your thems.

You hadn't every truly played with them together. The girl sitting behind you hadn't ever talked to you. The boy sitting in front of you didn't remember who you were. You did not belong to the summer camp. You looked at them who were in the water. In that fiction, you were obliviated by the protagonist. They stood by each other when they were in sorrow, they hugged each other when they were in delight. When they raised their paddles and pushed away the surge, you were a fish underwater, you listened to their joyful singing. When they destroyed everything, they had forgotten to put you to death. When they needed an antagonist, they were too lazy to use your name.

Now do you still remember.
Has your diary faded. Were the photographs inside lost. Were the ballpoint pen handwritings stuck with clear tape blurry. Have you thrown away your diary when you moved.
Did you remember the best summer.
Have you ever possessed. Have you ever laughed with your friends. Were you remembered by anyone.
Were you forgotten.
Do they still remember you.
The names in the yearbook, were they all still here?

They don't remember you anymore. You're still here, but they're in a place far away. They don't remember the pleasant summer anymore. They're like being chased by something, they don't remember anything anymore.
Only you could remember. Only you could remember the perfect trip.
Only you could remember. Only you could remember the lifeless trip.
Only you could remember. Only you could remember the lakeside trip.
Only you could remember. Only you could remember the sailing trip.
The little boat floated lightly on the water, a cool wind blew by your face.

The bodies in the water looked at us, quietly listened to our cheerful songs.

I
could
still
remember
you

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