After watching Feng Lun's "Savage Growth" and Ai Li's "8760 Hours of Your Year", after that, I tossed and turned, and I couldn't sleep. It coincided with such a good platform as [B Teaching 105], so I decided to sketch my past with a pen. I think it should be the 36th story on the platform, so it is called "The 36th Story".
During the day, the red and blue handovers, but the large and lively office seems so calm. My heart slammed, and I, who was lively and smiling on weekdays, longed for this tranquility so much.
Craving tranquility? Perhaps, this is called growing up.
Since elementary school, the teacher has told us the meaning of dreams, and at that time, I did not care about the childishness, only pay attention to whether the sugar gourds on the stalls outside the classroom door are still there.
In junior high school, the teacher told me the ideal concept, but I only paid attention to the transfer student wearing a white dress.
In high school, the teacher painstakingly advised me to clarify my goals and told me in a serious tone: College will determine your future attitude towards life. At that time, I frequently nodded, but I secretly wondered what brand of mobile phone I should change before graduation.
Finally no one told me about dreams, ideals, and goals.
Finally no one shouted my name in the classroom and said: Parents must come to school tomorrow.
Finally, before I died, heaven came.
Finally no one called me to get up in the morning, finally I could fall in love with honor, and finally I could be red and green, and the walking dead.
The moment I got my diploma, I began to reminisce about my student days. Suddenly, I felt that after so many years, except for insisting on charging my mobile phone every day, I had not insisted on doing anything meaningful. If I had to say, yes, I still had a few mirage-like loves.
Before love is the oath of the mountain alliance and the sea, after love is a mirage.
My first love told me that you love it, but you have to love it in the right way.
My second love taught me that you love well, but you have to be right. That love ended in a hurry to escape from work, escape from the city, escape from reality. I quit my job, which was relatively stable at the time, and returned to my hometown of Handan. After the hangover, I couldn't sleep. After dawn, I knew that no one else was me, no one knew how deeply I fell into that love, how much I loved, and no one knew my "embattled" mood.
After returning home for a long time, I stumbled upon a very stylishly decorated tavern. I went up and knocked on the door, only to find that the shop was closed, and although the black T-shirt and light-colored cowboys were still covering the walls of the tavern, I could only stop.
Like the original love, I finally did not take a step further, and there was no impulse at that time, all that remained was laughter during the day, calm at night, feelings after drinking, and helplessness to stop.
Perhaps, later we all became like this, without the impulse of unthinking, without the crazy love of recklessness, some just "forget it" and "choose and be responsible", some are just quiet fantasies of "choosing the hand of others" and the impulse of "growing old with people".
Drunk day and night, and indulging day and night, I finally learned to self-soothe and heal myself. I started interviews and received training. After a daily heavy workload of physical exhaustion, the word "retreat" flooded my mind.
I looked at the passionate peers around me and poured "persistence" into my mind. But I knew that I couldn't get stuck in the status quo, I had to run out, no matter how slippery the ground was and how far the road was.
Fate is always like this, sometimes windy and rainy, sometimes full of laughter, maybe this is the real youth. True, never hypocritical, after youth, we accept the ordinary, feel the prosperity, and return to satisfaction.
I think that after the real youth, there is nothing else to ask for but traces. I want to turn back and keep walking forward. Trying to hold on, the body nodded insincerely. Want to hold hands, the strong wind has already blown your hands. Wanting to shout and make noise has long since sealed your mouth.
We like to curl up in bed at night and think to ourselves, during the day, we are still a smiling self, perhaps, this is growing up, but also the self after youth.
The headphones are singing over and over again:
I didn't deliberately hide it.
Nor is it intended to make you sentimental,
How many times have we been drunk,
Curse life is too short,
Sigh see each other and hate late,
Let the woman put on makeup and cry it doesn't matter,
It's a pity that we have never matured and have not yet been able to know that we are already old.
Give yourself a random reason,
The provocation of love, the fate of the left,
Do not measure up to your strength to fight back until you die.
After crossing the hill, I found that no one was waiting.
Chattering, never to recall the tenderness,
Why can't I remember who gave me the hug last time
At what time
......