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Date d'inscription : 2007-11-03
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Limit (2) {Love story}

on Sun Apr 30, 2017 3:56 pm

Would our conception of a pursue and winning a pursue be comparable to the delusions out of the minds of fools if Zeno of Elea were correct about the eternal motionless universe? Fortunately, the paradox had been solved with a variety of solutions ever since it had been proposed. Yet, why did I still feel insane? Perhaps it was nature of the pursue that spun all the conundrum. Here again, I found myself asking the same damn question: why do I want to pursue him?

“Can’t you show more enthusiasm?”

He was looking blindly at the hand-out instruction sheet for a course project since the beginning of the group work session. The team had four members, and two of them were sick. In all the group word session, this one was the worst.

“Did you hear what I said?”

No reaction. His eyes kept focused on the sheet like a stone statue. I took a longer glance at him in hope of detecting any sign of my presence acknowledgment. Instead, I noticed that his eyelashes were seemingly quite long and curved upward. Suddenly, his eyes shifted and met mines. I quickly looked down but found nothing to focus my attention on except the emptiness of my desk. A violent heat pressure rose from my chest, spreading around my cheeks. Sweat rushed out of my forehead. At this point, I thought I could pretend that I was also sick. Just as I rose my hand to feel my forehead, I saw him again, eyes locked to that hand-out sheet.

This session was probably cursed to yield no progress. I stared at the clock while he stared at the sheet. Occasionally, I sensed him looking at my direction, but I refused to respond in fear of the heat rushing back again.

I wondered what made me so interest in him. Could it be because of his extraordinary intelligence and ubiquitous recognition throughout the college that provoked my greediness to have a share of his pride? Or his unusual thought pattern exposed every time he asked questions to teachers that caught my curiosity? Or his laughs and sense of humor released when he was at ease in his circle that made me smile. Or his coldness and indifference towards my presence that challenged my desire to conquer him? Or our title as classmates for ten years and three different schools that made me wonder if our relationship can go further?

Or all of them? "You’re in love", I remember what my friend had told me once. "It’s not love, it’s a competition", I had answered. Competition for what? I was reluctant to pursue and he was reluctant to advance. We were both at rest all the time.

The class ended. Slowly, he picked up his sheet and head to the door. I grab my bag while watching him leave my eye’s periphery. Then I exited the room, and saw that he was already gone.

Remake of HeadHunter's Academic fiction
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