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It was not until I entered the university for half a year that I discovered the existence of the library. Before that, I spent most of my time in classes, surfing the Internet and going to restaurants. I don't admit that I am an extrovert. On the contrary, I am introverted, but I can't get everyone's approval. If my classmates hadn't pulled me, I wouldn't have stepped out of the dormitory for a day. I live on the third floor near the window, and a paulownia tree downstairs is magnificent, coming through the glass window. On rainy days, Yang Yang, my lower berth, always stands in front of the window in a daze. Everyone in the dormitory knows that he likes to write poems, and his family is as delicate as a girl all day, frowning. You don't know what's going on. He is sighing, so I wonder why he is so sentimental.

He is not very gregarious and can stand loneliness better than me, but he can't be seen all day long when he goes out early and comes home late. He met him at the stadium in the morning and the lake in the evening, lying on the green lawn, watching the rosy clouds in the evening, listening to the laughter of his lover, and muttering, "I am very happy at this time." I looked at him in surprise: "What? You are happy to watch others kiss. " My words disappointed him so much that he shook his head and said, "This is a state." "I really admire you. It is your happiness, the happiness of the kisser, and my unhappiness. " I can't refute this reason, forcing him: "Others. ...