Throwback #2: On the Run

On the Run” is another story about reunion, a reunion between enemies. It is also my first ever, and also the last, fan-fiction about Dramione. It isn’t even really a kind of love story blossoming between them.

I don’t know why, but I have never ever shipped Draco/Hermione. To me, Hermione belongs to Ron and Ron only. That was one of those relationships I felt that J.K. Rowling did right. The others I felt was right were Remus/Tonks and Bill/Fleur. I hated Harry/Ginny and Harry/Cho.

Nevertheless, this came as an inspiration and it reflects that if ever Draco and Hermione were to move away from enemies, this is perhaps the furthest they can reach. Hope you enjoy it. 🙂

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Disclaimer: All names and characters are taken from J.K Rowling’s Harry Potter series. This story is purely for entertainment purposes and no copyright infringement is intended.

On the Run

Draco stood in the dark alley, staring at the street ahead of him. For the first time in his life, he stood in the middle of a Muggle town, dressed like a Muggle, without even a penny in his pockets. Nothing about him screamed that he was not like any ordinary person walking down the street, nothing except the wand in his pocket that did not belong to him.

The Second Wizarding War was over; his parents had fled, just like the rest of the Death Eaters had. They had set off together the night the Dark Lord was finished, but the pursuit of the Aurors had forced them to go separate ways. Draco had no idea where his parents were, or whether they were still alive. He could not step into any parts of the wizarding world without being caught and sent to the Wizengamot to await his sentence to befall upon him; not many people believed that he had become a Death Eater, but the mark upon his wrist spoke the truth, and Potter and his gang of friends would be ready to speak up against him. Potter was, after all, at the tower the night Dumbledore was killed.

Taking a deep breath, he took small steps forward, trying to force himself to adapt to his surroundings. He never dreamt that he had to live as one of them. Fragrance wafted from the bakery shop near his right, and children buzzed excitedly as they came out of a toy shop to his left. They chattered happily with one another, with friends and their family members. He could not remember when was the last time he had been able to talk to his parents, nor could he remember enjoying such times with Crabbe and Goyle. For the first time, he felt as though he had nothing in the world, nothing to remember his friends by. The last moments of Crabbe in the fire flashed past him, together with a surge of regret that he had been unable to save him. He stopped short in his tracks as he tried to shake the memory out of his mind, his eyes closed as he turned and walked back into the dark alley. The Room of Requirement, the cursed fire …


Draco staggered; his eyes flew open as he reached for the wand in his pocket, the side of his head pounding at where he was punched. But a pair of hands reached his before he could grip his wand tight and it fell out and rolled into a nearby drain.

“Wow! Look what we got here! Blondie! Where are you heading off to?”

“Get off me!” Draco struggled.

As his vision cleared, he saw a gang of six boys in front of him, holding what looked like the Beater’s bats. He had never really learnt how to dodge the Bludgers, much less dodge the bats if they were to come his way.

“Let go of me!” Draco yelled.

“Do you have some money? If you do, we’ll let you go.”


The biggest of the six boys surveyed him carefully, then narrowed his eyes.

“Search him!”

The boy behind him gripped his hands even tighter as the five boys flocked towards him.


“What did you call us?” one of the boys demanded. He looked small, no more than thirteen, yet Draco never felt more helpless in front of a little boy.

“I said filthy muggle,” Draco spat at his face.

The boys burst into fits of laughter.

“What a name! HAHAHAHA!” the biggest boy guffawed. Then without a warning, he whacked Draco across his face again. It struck his nose and a loud crack whipped through the air. Blood surged out from his nostrils and dripped onto the floor.

“Get him!”

Punches rained upon Draco once more, but he could do nothing to stop them. No matter how much he struggled, no one came to help.

“IMPEDIMENTA!” came a voice nearby.

“Wha- WHAT? I CAN’T MOVE! WHO’S THAT?” one of boys gasped as he tried to move his arms. “Big D! Help me!”

Their panic calmed Draco.

“Get out of here. I’m counting to three,” the voice said. Draco could not see who his savior was, but the voice was strangely familiar.

“You’re… You’re one of… of… them!” the biggest boy stammered, backing into the dark alley.


“You… you said… you said muggle earlier?”


“You… you’re…”



The boys scattered within a second, scrambling into the dark alley together with his friends, the biggest boy dragging his friend who had been jinxed. Draco stumbled towards the drain, reaching in to search for his wand.

“Accio wand!”

Draco watched as the wand flew out of the drain and into the hands of a silhouette, a girl with long, bushy hair.

“Oh, Granger, it’s you.”

“Your wand,” she scoffed as she tossed him his wand and turned to head off into the street.

“Granger!” Draco scrambled to his feet and ran after her. She did not stop, but he caught up with her and blocked her way.

“Do you… do you have…”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I can’t be anywhere else.”

There was a moment of awkward silence as Granger looked into the distance. A strong, loud, rumble came from his stomach.

“You’d think of bringing some money with you when you’re on the run,” she said. “Where are your parents?”

“We got separated. I couldn’t access Gringotts. All my money are with my parents.”

Granger scoffed at these words, but turned to look at him. For the first time, he noticed gentle kindness in her eyes.

“Come with me,” she said after a while. He followed her into the bakery where she bought some bread and gave it to him.

“These would last you a few days. Go somewhere else. Don’t stay in London.” She shoved some notes into his hands. “Here’s some money. Go somewhere, find a job.” She turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” Draco quickened his pace to follow.

“Diagon Alley,” she said. “School is starting, I’ve got books to buy.”

“You’re going back to Hogwarts?”


There was a moment’s silence again, but Draco could not find anything to say. Whether it was a sense of dependency, or was it a moment of gratefulness, Draco did not know. But there was a curious longing for Granger to stay.

“Well, good luck then,” she said after a while. “Stay safe.”

Surprisingly, she flashed him a smile. A smile so different from the smirk she often gave him, a smile that strangely, drew him in.

On the Run © 2011 by Ms. Auby Sparksfield. All rights reserved.


Which Minion Are You?

Which Minion Are You?

Due to my minion obsession, I pounced on this quiz once my friend sent it to me. Enjoy! XD

My result:



Picture credit:

Kevin is known best for being a right-hand man. He is often at the forefront of new ideas or exploration, including Gru’s announcement to steal the moon. One of Kevin’s strongest qualities is his ability to bounce back from almost any situation, including getting shrunk down to a miniature minion by the shrink ray. Kevin maintains an extremely positive, can-do attitude no matter what happens during his day, with energy to spare to play around the water cooler anytime.

Click here to find out which minion you are! 🙂

Throwback #1: Crossroad

Crossroad” is one of the first few stories which was posted on my blog. It is the first story posted on my blog actually, and the start to a great new journey. A journey which allowed me to meet with writers all over the world, a journey which helps me to explore even my innermost wants and desires, a journey to know myself better.

Writing has been my passion. I must admit I had always been an angry child when I was young. I was constantly compared to someone else: either among my family and relatives, or even my smarter friends. It didn’t matter I was more athletic than those I was compared to. It didn’t matter that I was quieter, an easier child. All it mattered was that I wasn’t smart enough. The only way I sought consolation was through writing.

Writing brings me to my own world. A world which I have in control of what happens. I usually made characters regret they ever looked down on someone. I made the ‘bad guys’ die, the ‘good guys’ live. As I grew older, I realised not all the good guys lived, so I let some of them die too. And when these stories were complete, I would weep, as though I had lost a friend, or a child, a baby.

When I write, the characters come alive and they talk to me. They told me what they wanted, and I could decide whether to give it to them or not. Sometimes, I realised they were simply my innermost desires, and when I denied the characters of these desires, I realised I didn’t want them too.

When I was eighteen, I went through my first heartbreak. The reason why I mentioned this is because, not that I hadn’t gotten over it, but because it was the event in my life which made me realise who truly loved me and who did not – who were those who used me simply for mealtime gossip, or who were the ones who sincerely loved spending time with me and see me do well in life. For this, I am utterly grateful it happened. Since then, my stories are filled with love: love from friends, from family. I did not want anyone to have to suffer from a heartbreak similar, or even worse, than mine. So instead of abandonment, my stories are all about reunion.

Crossroad” is a love story, a reunion, between a married couple – a faithful man who did anything to make his wife happy, a faithful man who would do anything to be with his wife no matter what happens.

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The afternoon was warm and humid. Never before in Singapore had the weather been so bad. The sun shone through the windows of the bus, searing into his bronze skin. He shifted his hand ever so slightly to keep it out of the sun. The bus ride had been bumpy all the way. As the Sunday crowd was starting to thicken, crowding up the bus and causing it to feel stuffier than it already was, he moved uneasily in his seat, taking a deep breath and trying to clear his mind.

Jin was a tall, thirty-two-year-old businessman. Recently he had started a business, what he called a clothing line. In actual fact, he was selling clothes pegs. People in Singapore usually hang their laundry to dry in the sun on bamboo sticks and that would be where his products would come in. They would hold down the laundry, not just preventing them from being blown away by the wind, but from theft too. His pegs, after all, were different. They were made of metal clasps with two plastic handles in which tiny security buttons were attached to them. Once activated, any slightest touch of it would trigger off an alarm that would alert the owner that someone else was trying to steal his or her laundry. The security buttons would run on solar power, generated from the solar panels attached on the outer side of the metal clasp. Jin always thought it was the best idea, since his wife had always complained about someone stealing her lingerie at night. Even though they had found out that the thief was their three-year-old cat, Nibbles, the problem had inspired Jin’s creations. Little did he know that his invention would backfire, landing him with huge amounts of business debts. Not only that, his wife’s chemotherapy bills, which he had expected to clear once he made money from his business, were slowly piling up. His wife’s situation had also deteriorated over the weeks since he started working on his inventions and she had decided to listen to the doctor’s advice to move into the hospital instead. In order to cope with these bills, he had to sell his jet-black Audi convertible and his three-storey landed property in Sixth Avenue. And that was not all! He was also left with a whole bedroom, kitchen and storeroom of pegs and had no idea of what to do with them.

With the failure of his only investment, he had moved into a modest flat in Choa Chu Kang, next to a tiny heartland mall called Sunshine Place. He had changed his entire closet of Armani Exchange suits and Crocodile polo shirts into Giordano cotton tees. As he sat there in the bus on the way to the nearest MRT station, he was wearing his favourite white shirt from Giordano that had a smiley face on it that said, “Cheer You Up!” His wife had suggested them to get identical ones for couple shirts, since they could no longer afford expensive apparel. To their utter astonishment, they found entire streets of Singaporeans wearing them wherever they went. His wife had stopped wearing the shirt since then, but he continued wearing it out whenever he missed her too much.

The bus turned into the bus interchange and he hopped off, tapping his Ez-link card as he went. He made his way to the MRT station, passed the gantry and up the escalator, taking care to keep to his left as he cruised up to the station platform. He felt weird not having his wife by his side when taking the train, or even when going anywhere at all. He was used to holding her hand tight and looking into her soft, tender eyes ever so often. The warmth of her hand was still lingering on his fingers even as he thought about her. She was so frail when he last saw her that it broke his heart.

He stared at the electronic signboard that counted down to the train arrival as he stepped onto the platform. Three minutes to the arrival of his train. He closed his eyes and in his mind, he could still see his wife. Her sweet smile, the fruity scent of her perfume, her tinkling laughter…

A gentle tap on his shoulder woke him up.

“Excuse me,” a bossy voice rang out from the back. “I might be mistaken. But you are Mr. Jin Sway, aren’t you?”

He whirled around to see a middle-aged woman, dressed in plain tee-shirt and jeans and wearing Nike sports shoes standing in front of him. As their eyes met, the woman’s face lit up with glee.

“You really are! I saw you in the papers and bought your pegs! They’re great!”

“Really? I’m flattered. Thank you,” Jin replied modestly.

“But they are a little on the expensive side. It took up my entire month’s pay.”

“I understand,” he continued.

“What inspired you to make them?” the woman questioned.

“My wife,” he told her simply. He recounted the story of the stolen lingerie.

Suddenly at the back of his mind, the laughing image of his wife faded. It was replaced by her thinning face, head bald from the chemotherapy, her eyes filled with pain, sadness and fatigue. Just recounting things to a stranger made him realize how much time he had lost just doing the business while she was so critically ill and how much he actually missed her. He was going to meet her now and this thought made him even more excited than ever. Most of the time he tried to retain memories of his wife’s happy moments. It was what that kept him going after she moved away. Although his last visit was only a day ago, his eyes sparkled with excitement as they flickered to the electronic signboard. One minute. He followed suit as the woman moved to queue up to get onto the train. He had not told his wife that he would be going to see her that day. It would be a pleasant surprise.

His hands fiddled with the wedding ring still sitting on his ring finger while a smile played on his lips. He could remember the first day they met in school, under the old tree filled with ants. He could recall the first time they went on a date, sitting on the grass patch next to the giant canal where he caught pretty fighting fishes for her. He could still feel the pain when they fought that day over moving out of the terrace house and into the small apartment… But no matter, he was going to her now, going to apologize for all the pain he had caused her. Without her, he would never have come this far, even if he was left penniless. She was something, someone he could never do without.

“Where are you heading to, Mr Sway?” the woman’s voice rang out again, turning round to address him once more as the electronic signboard started flashing and the train moved into the station. But Jin was no longer next to her. He was moving, fast, towards the edge of the platform, shouting something no one could hear – for a horrified scream had drowned his voice as he took an intrepid step off the platform and disappeared beneath the train.

Crossroad © 2010 by Ms. Auby Sparksfield. All rights reserved.

The Final Evolution Chapter 4

Click here for Chapter 3

Chapter 4

There is a loud splat and I opened my eyes. I am stuck, swimming in something thick and goopy, waist deep into whatever it is. I yank the bat out of the junk.

“YUCK!” Jim swears, somewhere to my right. It is dark once more.

“Everyone alright?”

“Yes,” Jim and I reply in unison.

We listen to the retching, snarling and stomping of feet coming from above us in silence. I am afraid that the metal would give way, but another loud roar silences them all. We hold still, not daring to make any noise for a minute until shuffling is heard. Then, a torchlight clicks on, revealing a tunnel before us, filled with junk up to our waists.

“Wow. We sure are in deep shit,” I murmur.

Matt shines the torchlight around. We take the chance to survey our injuries. Jim’s neck is scalded red raw as are my hands. Matt takes out a tiny tube of ointment and we rub it over our injuries. By the time we are done, the tube is empty. Matt tosses it into the waste.

“If we are all good to go, let’s move, before she destroys the metal cover,” Matt says softly.

“I think she would have done that already if she’d wanted to.” Jim has a point, but I move off anyway. The faster we get out of this place, the better.

We trudge through the waste silently. The journey is labourious; we have to constantly throw our weight forward in order to bring our legs through the thick waste. Even though I lead the way, I have absolutely no idea where we are heading to. All I am doing is praying that we exit somewhere safe, somewhere that can lead me to Dad safe and sound.

It feels like it has been almost an hour since we landed in this sewer. The muscles in my thighs are burning as though they, too, had been scalded by those skeletons. The only consolation I have is that the waste seems to be thinning already. Then, round a bend, we stop at a fork. A faint sound of water flowing comes from our left.

“Let’s go there. It’s probably an opening,” Matt says.

I can hardly bring myself to remind him that it is perhaps just someone flushing the toilet. But we proceed left anyway and arrives at a metal gate.

“What is this?” I ask. “Where does this lead to?”

“I believe it is to prevent the waste from clogging up. This path should lead to a canal. We can get out from there.”

Matt brings out his crowbar again and we push together, prying the gate open. We follow the path down and indeed, the air is clearing. The gate has apparently been effective in segmenting the waste, for there is none on the ground now. The smell, however, lingers in my nose.

“Do you think we’ve walked long enough to be out of school?” I whisper.

“Yes, I think so.”

Before long we can see the sky, dotted with little stars twinkling. I begin taking the route at a run, water splashing at my feet. The other two follow closely behind me and I feel the mood lightening. Soon, the wall of the canal is low enough for us to climb out. Jim pulls himself up first then helps Matt and I up. The sky is still dark and there is no retching nor any glowing skeletons in sight. The streetlamps are working, lighting up the area well. Not far away from us, there are outlines of roller coasters.

“We need to go somewhere,” Matt says, looking around.

“Yeah. Like maybe go for a thrill ride or something,” I suggest, nodding towards the theme park in the distance.

There is a moment’s silence at first, and then we burst out laughing, clearly very much relieved at our escape. We walk towards the theme park silently, worn out from our ordeal. When we finally arrive at the gates of the theme park, however, we are greeted by the ominous absence of a security guard at the gate.

“Shouldn’t there be someone here?” I ask, frowning at the security post.

“We’ll just wash up. Make it quick, come on,” Matt says, pushing me towards the gantry. Reluctantly, I climb over it and land in the theme park. We walk in a straight line, side by side, heading straight for the bathroom sign across a facade of a Hollywood street. Finally we reach the washroom. The boys dart into theirs and I dawdle outside, thinking. Then, not wanting to be left all alone, I decide to go into the boys’ washroom as well.

“HEHEHE! HAAAAHAAAHAAA!” A cackle whips through the air, raising goosebumps on my arms.

I spin around.

“Who’s there?” I ask as loudly as I dare.

A long silence came in reply.

I scan the place quickly for any sign of chaos which had happened here before, but all seems quiet and calm. The displays in the shops are still arranged in an orderly manner. An action figure poses in the window of one shop and the window next to it has ornaments glinting under the moonlight. My eyes land on the shop selling Goth dolls. All of them bore huge round eyes and little black lips. A tiny doll sits on a rocking chair and stares back at me, unblinking. Its piercing glare is creeping me out. I move my eyes onto the candy shop next to it. Then, a slight disturbance makes me do a little double take.

The chair is rocking slightly and then it slows to a stop. The doll is gone.

We are not alone.

I turn to run into the washroom where the boys are, but they are already sprinting out towards me. Jim gestures for me to turn around and I obey immediately. Loud cackling fills the air and the door to the doll shop bursts open. Monsters flood out, bouncing on stilts towards us. All of them have big red noses and bright red lips flipped inside out. There are black circles round their gigantic eyes that are rolling backwards in their mutated lids. Dressed in circus costumes, one of them waves the tiny Goth doll, cackling menacingly. Then, it hurls the doll towards us. I yelp and duck. The doll hits the ground and starts crying.

Fear spreads through my body. My legs almost give way, muscles burning in protest of fatigue. Jim drags me along as I throw the bat aside to lighten my load, but the monsters are catching up on us. At last, we reach the other side of the theme park. The road spills onto an open beach.

“The beach!” I gasp.

A strange, low humming creeps into the air and down my spine. Something else is coming for us, I just know it.

“Up a tree!” I yell, recalling my hiding place the night before. My eyes sweep the place and lands on a tree not too far away. “That one!”

We flee towards it, feet sinking into the sand. Then a strange gurgling noise emerges from our right, joining in the ruckus. Out of the corner of my eyes, shadows rise out from the sea. One by one they trudge forwards, all of them holding daggers, poised to strike. Dripping wet, they move towards us, still gurgling. We have to get to the tree as fast as possible in order to avoid getting cornered on the ground.

Jim reaches the tree first. He jumps and catches hold of the first branch. After pulling himself up, he reaches back down to help me up. A loud cracking ensues from the tree branch – it is too heavy to hold both of our weights.

“Up!” Jim cries. I scramble up to the second branch and he follows closely behind. I look down frantically to check if Matt is catching up. He is at the bottom of the tree, having trouble climbing. I start making my way down to get him. But before I can reach the lower branch, he catches hold of it and heaves himself up. Quickly, I sat myself down on the second branch and dangle upside-down, using my legs to cling on.

“Come on!” I yell at Matt, stretching out my hand for him, knowing that his branch will give way anytime soon. He reaches up high for it, but he isn’t tall enough. “Jump!” I call out desperately.

But it is too late. The branch gives way with a loud crack and Matt crashes all the way down to the sand. He gets up, looks around wildly as the monsters close in on him. Then he dashes towards another tree in the distance. But before he can reach the tree, a dagger flies out of nowhere and strikes him on the back of his neck. He collapses, face down, onto the sand.

“No!” I scream.

The creatures from the sea look up when they heard my voice and I quickly sat up. A dagger misses me by inches and sticks to the branch behind me. Then the jesters bounce upwards, attempting to grab my dangling legs. I quickly duck behind the tree trunk to take cover as leaves rain upon me; Jim is making his way to the top of the tree. I climb as fast as my weary legs can carry me, out of the way of the terrible clowns. Finally, I reach the top and peek out from behind the leaves.

One of the creatures from the sea is pulling the dagger out from Matt’s neck and then slits it across his throat. Blood spurts out from his wound as the rest carry him towards the sea. Matt is clearly dead. I gasp as moonlight cast itself onto those creatures.

They are gray, covered in scales that gleam beautifully under the moonlight. Like their cousins, their facial features are turned inside out. But something is a little different about them. There are slits on the sides of their necks and they flare outwards rhythmically. One of them dons an eye-patch.

“Pirates,” I whisper.

When the mob reaches the sea, all of them crowd around Matt’s body and starts gagging. Eye-patch emits a loud cry, very much like a war cry and some sort of a chant. Then Matt seems to go into spasms as his eyelids starts turning outwards as do his nose and lips. Scales then slowly spread, covering his skin and his entire body. Finally, slits appear on the sides of his neck. The mob releases him as his eyes open and he starts gasping for breath. He sinks into the sea and emerges a moment later, very much alive.

“No way,” Jim murmurs, his mouth gaping open in disbelief.

Eye-patch draws a dagger out from the water and hands it to Matt, who takes it over with a bow. Then Eye-patch puts a scaly hand over Matt’s shoulders and in uniformity, the mob dives and disappears into the sea, claiming Matt as one of their own.

The Final Evolution © 2013 by Auby Sparksfield. All rights reserved.

Written by: Ms. Auby Sparksfield

Edited by: Isaac Tan

Click here for Chapter 3

4000 reads!

Dear readers,

My stories blog has reached 4000 reads! 4,063 reads to be exact. It is such a happy thing to announce in the month of Thanksgiving too!

Thank you all so much for reading and staying by my blog. Thank you all so much for the feedback and comments! Thanks for all the encouragement, especially, which has helped motivated me to stay writing and posting. Most importantly, thanks for showing me the great universe out there, where writers gather and help each other with their stories, collaborating with one another for more tasteful stories.

My latest milestone is to have written a mini novella, The Final Evolution, and it is one of the stories that propelled the readership. Thank you for staying by Clare with her journey thus far and there is more to come every week. Thank you my friends who have encouraged and motivated me with this story: Gerald, Alyssa, Zool and Cecilia. Thank you Isaac who took time off his busy schedule to edit it. Thank you all so much. 😀

I hope you have enjoyed my stories and I do wish that y’all will continue enjoying them. And if the stories brighten up your day or night, do share them with your friends. 


Ms. Auby Sparksfield


不知道在什么时候我已经到了车站。一只手提着包包, 一只手抱着手提电脑, 等着巴士, 发着呆。雨水滴嗒滴嗒地滴在草地上, 闪电一闪一闪地。瞧, 老天爷都在为我叫屈了。做不完的作业, 等不到的车。刚毕业的我才正式上班没多久就想离开这个繁忙拥挤的都市, 退休到新西兰去了。

巴士终于来了。我上车打卡后一屁股坐下来往窗外看。窗户蒙蒙的, 路灯打在雨水上,显得窗上的雨珠像水晶般闪闪发亮。外面的细雨已经下了一整天了。好朋友,看着细雨的时候你也在回想起我们在台北的时候吗?你在那里流学,我在那里旅游疗伤。为了一个失败的感情,为了一群不讲义气的朋友而躲到远远的我,逃到了那个小城市。台北市跟新加坡差不多大,也是都市,也很繁忙。那时是冬天,还天天下雨,我也生病了。那时我还以为自己很厉害,坚持不带伞,结果病了三个星期都没好。你在上课,又需要陪我旅游,照顾我。虽然我嘴里不说,但那时的我心里还有那么一丝丝的伤心,甚至怀恨在心,快乐不起来。

我一直都没说,可是在那个时候我很庆幸有你这个朋友。你虽然在忙你的,也不问我到底发生了多少事情,但这让我在心理上有个距离,让我好好地看清这个世界。当我觉得我被我爱的人遗弃,被朋友背叛而被所有的人讨厌的时候,你却给了我机会在那个人生地不熟的地方见识生活里一点一滴另人感到温馨的事情。我见识到了台北夜生活,台北人的热情,花莲的新鲜空气与美景,台北市的跨年晚会, 五月天感人肺腑的演唱会。我见识到了其实人们再忙也可以畅怀大笑,见识到了用礼貌以及真心对待人家自己也会开心一整天,见识到了其实生活不只是围绕在一些不懂得我的心的人; 世界上还有值得我用真心去感觉以及体会的东西,这样,我的用心更值得。看着你天天为自己喜爱的东西和梦想努力读书,我也见识到了什么叫做对生活的冲进,什么叫做努力追求自己想要的东西。最重要的是,我还见识到了谁才是值得我真心对待,能够信任的朋友。


“有一天, 就是今天, 今天就是有一天,
再干一杯永远, 喝了就能万岁, 岁岁和年年。”

— 五月天,干杯