Chapter 809: I Don’t Want to Grow Up
Many people believe in miracles—until reality slaps them in the face, leaving them bloodied and broken.
Only when they’re beaten senseless, mindlessly begging for the pain to stop, do they finally understand: everyone has dreams and ambitions—but just because you have them doesn’t mean you’re meant to chase them, or that chasing them will lead anywhere.
There was once a survey conducted with young people under 24. More than half said they wanted to become celebrities.
Their reasons were surprisingly pure: Being famous is cool, I’ll have lots of friends, I want to make my family proud. Very few said they wanted to get rich. That’s what people like to call the beauty of youth—ideals untouched by hardship.
In truth, they just haven’t been beaten enough yet. Their lives are still full of naïve illusions.
The girl next to Lynch once believed the same things. She thought she was beautiful. Back in high school, even the quarterback fought other players over her.
Upperclassmen, underclassmen—wherever she went, people liked her. She even had a nickname: Sweetheart.
To a feminist, that might sound demeaning. But to her, it was a compliment. She loved being the center of attention, the sun around which others revolved.
She kept her figure in perfect shape, confident that she looked no different from the stars on screen or in TV dramas.