So, the days went by. I found a habit of crying silently. Something heavy could not get out of my chest and free me from the pain. It got to the point where I cried if I didn't see Serdar at recess. The worst thing was that I couldn't change anything. Exactly, at that time I hated reality, because, no matter how hard you try, it was relentless, mercilessly persistent. I was running after a ghostly dream, which, as it seemed to me at that time, could become real, realized. The lines of love written on the desk turned into painful memories. And it strengthened the desire to become only a memory in this world. I cried so much over films about love that then I had to cry, seeing my suffering.
One day, while talking in class about the novel “Pride and Prejudice” by the famous English writer Jane Austen, I saw Serdar walking down the corridor. Our classroom was next door to the principal's cab. He must have gone there. I was glad that I saw so desirable through the open doors. I continued my story with a very interesting fact about the film of the same name based on the novel by J. Austin. When, during the filming of the film, they came to see the palace where the following scenes were supposed to take place, English cinematographers saw a scripture made back in the XVlll century. Despite the fact that the scripture was made quite a long time ago, it has been preserved in its original form. This lettering was made by one unfortunate aristocrat lady, whose fate is unknown to us for certain. She wrote her last word on the palace mirror in indelible colors. Then the critics told about the sad love for one gentleman of this aristocrat lady. The main thing here was that my record on the desk and her record on the mirror coincided in content. After all, it was written there: “Remember me" is almost the same as what I wrote on the desk.
My words, spoken in a trembling voice, may not have actually reached the person who was discussing something with the headmaster in the next office. And if they had, he probably wouldn't have understood. It seemed to me that he was listening to me secretly from everyone, listening with a sinking heart. Wishing that no one would suspect, I told about my love through that aristocrat lady, threw a stone from my soul. With each confession, it became easier and easier for me, as if a mountain had been lifted from my shoulders. After the confession, I fell silent a little, and my soul found peace. I had such an idea before, but I managed to put it into practice only on that beautiful spring day.
Sometime later I heard that Serdar was being transferred to another school, and this school is far away, abroad. That's when I finally realized that nothing would happen between us, and that another person would look into his eyes. He disappeared from my life so beautifully, in a Hollywood way, like a wanderer one day who came to the palace and left it, leaving the mistress in an awkward position. The day I found out about Serdar's departure, I realized that he was leaving my world of love. I resigned myself to the fact that only memories will remain of him, and even those will be remembered when I once again hear some sad story of unfulfilled love in the daily hustle and bustle of life. I promised myself not to love anyone else, and consoled myself with the fact that "Everything will be fine with me… or without me"
After the day when Serdar said goodbye to his friends and left school, I still hurried there again to see him. It seemed to me that he should say goodbye to me. Despite the fact that we never talked for more than two minutes, and the conversations were only about studying, for some reason, he had to say goodbye to me separately. But it didn't happen. Referring to a headache, and taking my aching heart in my hands, I took leave from the lesson. I wanted, at least for a moment, to look at the desk where our love was once born. Unwanted tears blurred my eyes. And suddenly, through tears, I saw some letters, as if from a touch screen, where one touch can increase and decrease for the taste. When my vision finally cleared, I began to distinguish the writing on the desk. In order to print small letters, the author had to press the handle hard. Usually, we didn't write with such pressure that it would be easy to erase later. I recognized the author right away. It turns out he was listening to me. This thought flashed through my head. And suddenly I remembered Myahri's words about Serdar's sparkling eyes… Unable to stand, I sat down on the table, only then things returned to their former places, and bitter tears began to choke me like a downpour. I still don't understand why, my bitter tears poured out with a scream, and only then my soul found peace, but I know that I can overcome any obstacles in difficult moments of my life, remembering those eyes in which I saw myself, and that inscription that was on a desk. After all, there was written "Remember me"