He had liked her for a long time, starting from when she handed him a bottle of water during physical education class in his freshman year of high school. He kept the bottle of water for several months, hiding it in the drawer in the corner of his desk, like a little secret that no one knew.
She didn't know him very well, but he knew everything about her silently. She liked wearing different bracelets, always wrote diaries during lunch breaks, and always ranked first in the class in math. He began to imitate her rhythm, replaced his favorite electronic music with folk songs that she often mentioned; began to recite poems that she was interested in, just to mention them inadvertently during the conversation.
He tried to be the way she liked, but every time he talked to her, he was cautious, not daring to smile more, afraid of being too enthusiastic; nor too cold, afraid of disappointing her. He always lived in the assumption of "whether she would like this", and gradually lost himself.
Until one day, he saw her leaving school with another boy. The boy helped her carry her school bag, and she lowered her head and smiled, a smile he had never seen before.
He didn't collapse, but at that moment, it seemed like something collapsed. He returned home and looked at himself in the mirror, feeling strange and tired. He asked himself: "Do I like her, or do I like the me that I thought she liked?"
That night, he turned off his social media for the first time, took out his painting tools that he hadn't touched for a long time, and painted all night. He found that he didn't like folk songs or bracelets. He actually liked eating hot ramen on rainy days and listening to old rock while painting.
He still remembers her appearance, but he is no longer heartbroken. Because he finally understood: loving someone is not about becoming the person she likes, but becoming the person you are willing to love deeply.