Gao Huan

Anyway, I find it quite a funny topic, though a little bit ominous-sounding. I am a typical optimist with absolutely NO psychological problem. But I don't mind revealing a so-called secret, in my age of innocence.

That was a shiny Saturday afternoon when I was around ten years old. My grandmother had just scolded me very severely for a certain thing that I can hardly recall now. Then she went to take an after-lunch nap. I was therefore left alone, weeping with a broken, bleeding little heart. How could she treat me like that? I looked out of the window with tearful eyes. The sun shined rejoicefully but I was so painful deep inside my soul.

My imagination began to work: If I died now, would my family be tortured by the overwhelming regret? I pictured to myself that they were crying miserably but the loss was obviously irretrievable. I was intensely stricken by this made-up scene and nearly wept my heart out.

Suddenly, I caught sight of a bottle of synthetic glue. In a fit of sadness, I reached for it and said to myself, ��I would rather die.�� Life to me, then, seemed hollow, and existence but a burden. I tasted a little: sticky, sour and bitter. It was not at all comfortable or pleasant to commit suicide. I canceled my grand plan immediately.

After she woke up, Grandmother gave me some inviting refreshments with her usual warmth and affection, as if nothing had happened. The whole thing was then patched up.

Now I am no longer a kid and I know over-sentimentality was just unnecessary and ridiculous.

That is the first time I thought of suicide and I believe it to be the last. Now I appreciate the colorfulness of life and I will never misinterpret good will and love as something else again.

This essay was well received and the teacher of the writing class, Mr. Wu Jianqing, printed in hand-outs for two classes to review. :-)

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