I'm a person who is forgetful. Whether it is a happy thing or a sad thing, I forgot it in the next day. But there is one thing I always remember.
About 10 years ago, I'm outgoing, lively and cheerful. I was often called a "tomboy" by my relatives and neighbors, because I always played with boys.Actually my neighbors were all boys. At that time, riding bicycle became popular among children. Such a cleaver girl I was, I learned how to ride a bike quickly without falling( with my father's help). I liked this sport very much and always rode my bike with my friends.
One day, a boy said " Let's have a race." All of us were excited about this idea. Soon, everyone got ready. On the starting line, I was full of confidence to myself and quiet sure that I would be the first one crossed the finish line. I grinned, as if I have won this game. When the judge shouted " Ready " my hands clasped the handlebars. My body leaned forward slightly. I put my right foot on the pedal." Go!
" I pedaled energetically and felt the wheels were rolling. At that moment, I believed I could fly. The goddess of victory was waving to me. But at the next moment, I stepped nothing!
NO! I couldn't control myself! I lost my balance! I was tilting! What can I do? My victory. No, no, no. It's not the right time to think about it. I was falling!
Tens of thousands of thoughts flashed in my mind. Finally, my rear end met the earth. When I was still in shock, the boys around me cheered and clapped, and on one came up and helped me. Some screes pricked my hand, and my legs broke. But so what?
I stood up, lifted my bike, then went home alone.
After that accident, I hardly played with boys. This failure hurt self-esteem and I didn't want to confront my failure. By the way, I could also play with girl with my bike.
