Книга Remember me - Bagul Atayeva

I wanted to turn right. And then there was a collision. Adjusting the glasses that had slipped to the side and muttering: "Well, what is it…", I looked at the guy standing opposite, who, although he said "sorry", it was not clear whether he was sorry or funny. Even without waiting for an answer, he just went on. I assumed that this was the same guy with a foreign upbringing. After all, it was the first time I saw such a person at school. Yes, and outwardly he looked like the one who was described with such delight. For a long time, I could not forget him. The desire to be where he was pushed me to various stupid actions. Despite the fact that he does not pay any attention to me and is not interested in me (And this upset me to tears), I did not put on makeup and dress in a European way. But I began to take part in the Olympiads with great enthusiasm, because now I had a desire to prove to someone that I was strong and educated. Then I didn't understand that all my attempts to attract his attention were useless. And this is understandable, if we take into account the fact that I didn't love anyone before, and for the same reason they didn't love me, everything becomes clear. But, where did it occur to me to fall in love with the one about whom all the girls of the school dreamed? So, what if he has indescribably beautiful, innocent eyes? But, is it just the eyes? He reminded me of those dreams that were wild stupidity for a simple provincial. His appearance, tall stature, black, burning eyes, like a brunette from Hollywood movies, and the fact that he spent a lot of time abroad, were like romantic pictures from my imagination. I believed that he was special, and my unrealistically beautiful dreams had to be special with him. He made me believe in myself. For those who doubted their abilities, it was a great happiness to find a person who would inspire faith in dreams and that they would come true. Every single day brought anxiety to the girl, who exchanged imperious loneliness for love for a guy with innocent eyes. I turned in my thoughts, saw in dreams our fateful meeting. And I was constantly thinking about how we would meet. Then something happened.

From the day we sat down at the desk until graduation, we are told not to draw on the desk. I will lie if I say that I do not fulfill all the requirements. But, among the unfulfilled requirements was the habit of writing sometimes on the desk. Perhaps this is because the desire to write did not leave me alone for a minute, and therefore I wrote everywhere: on leaves, on walls, on handkerchiefs. And then one day, in an English lesson, I decided to write a song on the desk” Somebody is me". This world-famous song began with the words: "Do you remember me like I remember you» Wrote. Since it was a common thing, I soon forgot about the recording. But I couldn't forget the person I imagined listening to this sad song. After that day, I came to school early and sat down to repeat my lessons. From watching the movie until late at night, my eyes were blurred and my head ached. Yes, in addition, I wanted to sleep. Not wanting to torment my sleepy eyes anymore, I decided to take a nap. When my cheeks touched the cold desk, I saw an entry made in large letters. It was the answer to that sad song. The author did not hide his name. It was Serdar, whom I was constantly thinking about. I found out the day I ran into him that he was one year older than me, and that day I found out that we were both sitting at the same desk. And then, only Serdar could write lines from the song so competently, even better than me, without grammatical errors. I immediately started to answer and wrote in English: "Don't write here anymore" I wanted to show my indifference to the writer with this pretense, but in fact, I was very happy that the letter would have a wonderful continuation. Out of joy, I didn't even know what was going on around me. It was like a waking dream. From this dream, the teacher's voice brought me to reality: "Ataeva is now traveling in her creative world, let's not interfere with her." I think I laughed out loud at this. After lessons, I ran to another floor to see the author of the inscription. Serdar walked by as if nothing had happened. I also tried to behave in a similar way. But, the question: "Does he really not suspect that I am writing letters", did not give me peace of mind. The next day, the answer to my entry almost drove me crazy. From the excitement of the words "Oh, my God, does this really happen?» they just burst out of my lips, and attracted curious classmates to me. Those who knew English well asked with a laugh: Of course, I didn't tell them anything, and so that they wouldn't suspect anything, I erased the inscription with mock anger. It was done so hastily and rudely that the words "There is no life without you, but I can't say" were hardly erased. As a person who ruined his beloved and could not forget, I looked at the erased place for a long time. On the one hand, I was saddened that such words were most likely untrue, but on the other hand, I was glad that he had an interest in me. Now, I was in no hurry to run to another floor after lessons. I continued to look at the erased lines, like a person who sees the result of his work, and who wants to prolong his