la chanson du passé

I hate such cliche, however, I just cannot let go.
Today I overslept and missed my stop. Gratefully I wake up when the bus just passed the expressway. As I got off with the still sleepy mind, the same old scene just came and struck me. That view used to be my everday scenery when junior high. The greenfield site just so wide; beside the viaduct, nothing would block your sight, so that you could look though the area, and all the apartment buildings were far away in the foothill. This way you could esaily get the view of the vaulted sky. There was where you can find the boundlessness of the reachable part of world and tast the feeling surronding by the huge sky. (And so did the wind. It seemed that an open area always have the comfy wind) It just so transparent and clear and lonely and securing. Like a gentle cut on the tenderest part of your heart.
It almost broke me down. As it always do.

However I cannot get it why people can take such things as this so easy. I have to forbid myself from taking some particular thoughs and emotion, or it would lead to a sequela which I am afraid I wouldn't be able to handle. Maybe I was wrong , maybe the very one I meet also deals with these problems; nevertheless, I stay on my own, cannot get a little cule how people make it work. All the ones I tired to ask for didn't get my point. They didn' t wait for me to tell the whole story and just said that I am lucky to have a happy time in my young teens, and yeah, your friends are fuuny. I mean, yes I know I am lucky thank you, but no one would talk about their friends as the lovely roles in a dramatic memory. (They should know, shouldn't they?) I were trying to discribe the whole situation. Every single part is important. I were not just telling a story; that was my life. Once. No one would talk their precious memory just to make a joke. All the days I gone though are the stuff of me. No one would take a part of his own just to entertain his classmate.
They've proven they do have the sense of these little, funny, delicate, vulnerable section of mind, but still we cannot overcome the misunderstanding. The communicational problem between us determine the though that I should not try to find a way to escape, I should try to find a way to live with them.
I am too afraid to let go but I also too coward to face them.
I think I may deal with this problem the rest of my life. People can meet again, places can wait for your next visit, but time just goes by. You can hold everthing you want to hold, but you can't stop time changing everthing. The exactly same won't happen again and nothing ever endure.