Inscription: May I go through a thousand sails, and return to be a teenager...
1
As soon as a person steps into the threshold of youth, he has a lot of confusion and confusion for no reason. An inexplicable emotion, an unspeakable emotion, always surrounds us. When you are young and young, you like a person, and you can be so obsessed. Speaking of liking him, it is entirely because of a sentence from one of my dead henchmen: Look how tall he is. At that time, such a simple sentence was enough to mess up a girl's heart, and since then I have fallen in love with a boy named "Chen".
At that time, we were attending a normal school, and at that time we often studied together, worked together, and played badminton together. Whenever the two of us mixed doubles with other students, it was always me who lost points, and the minister would always say, the weak link. A burst of laughter, weak and happy.
Far from our families, we all wash our own clothes, we sometimes go to the clear river, wash clothes while playing, in the giggles of our classmates, happy times always pass quickly. And each time, he helped send my washed clothes back to the dormitory building to dry. Occasionally, he would ask me to help with a few pieces of laundry, just like He did.
That time the school held a "memorial to the ninth. 18 Chorus Recitation" activity, perhaps because I always drilled the library, the heavy responsibility of my class writing fell on my head, so I sharpened my knife. Because the minister was the leader of this event, the words I figured out were going to spew out of the mouth of the minister, how could I not be excited? How can you not go all out?
On the day of the event, the recitation of the minister was vivid, and it also made my words so shocking, we were transformed into enthusiastic young people full of pride. When Singing the song "On the Songhua River", several classmates and I dressed up as the masses living on the street, and one classmate played the little granddaughter, holding the old woman with scattered hair played by me to waddle in the street. When a paragraph was sung and the music was interlude, the sonorous recitation of the courtiers once again infected everyone, and our grandson was also encountering a few Japanese soldiers shaking their heads in the middle of the stage, and I fell down on one toe. The minister's recitation changed tone, of course, perhaps only I could hear it. The little granddaughter hurriedly helped me up, and we slowly walked to the backstage... By the end of our performance, thunderous applause echoed through the auditorium. Of course, the first prize is none other than my class.
Afterwards, Tatsu asked me about the fake fall you directed myself, which frightened him, why didn't he even tell him? I laugh slyly, it's a secret weapon, my little trick, I'm the screenwriter! My unladylike laughter infected the courtier, and we laughed together. Then, invite him to eat a meal, even if it is to give his spiritual comfort, but also to be a small celebration of our success. I'll entertain you, the boy will settle the account, and give him some manly face.
During the spring outing of the class, it was the minister who rode me on a bicycle, and he tried his best to borrow the bicycle, so I lay on the second class seat and shouted to hire a free rickshaw driver. The minister looked at me with a smile, accidentally caught by you as a laborer, in fact, his face was full of pride and happiness. The students' bicycle team swept across the highway in a mighty way, and the laughter of youth spread all the way.
Arrived at the destination, the lake and mountains are beautiful, it is really pleasant. More favorite people to accompany around, that is the scenery in the drunken people more drunk ... Everyone showed off exaggerated looks, and the guys who looked like photographers were very busy. The sky was exceptionally blue that day, the trees were particularly green, and next to the most densely packed tree, my minister and I left a group photo full of smiles. We lean on thick tree trunks, youthful, free, carefree, jealous... That's the only group photo of the two of us that I still treasure.
My compatriot, the son of a former math teacher, my junior high school classmate, who was still a classmate at this time, often took care of me like a brother. On the way to see a movie organized by the school, everyone walked in pairs and made trouble. Fellow countrymen and a few classmates caught up with me and a few other classmates from behind, and jokingly said to the courtier: Take good care of my sister. I blushed when I heard it. Neither I nor I have ever said anything like liking each other, but even so, in the daily life, it is clear to the bystanders.
My birthday was the next day for the minister, and I was younger than him year after day. On that birthday, the minister invited me to his house to spend it together, and I agreed without hesitation. In the scorching sun, I went to buy gifts for my courtiers. However, when it was time to leave on the weekend, I made a deserter and asked my classmates not to tell me, and the gifts became my own collection. The minister repeatedly asked the girls who were traveling with me to persuade me, but I was like eating a scale, and I had an iron heart, and I did not go after all. Later, the female classmates who went with them came back and said that they had a lot of fun, but the minister was a little sorry because I did not celebrate the birthday with the minister. It turns out that your birthday Oh, I don't even know, send a late blessing, the female classmate said. I smiled and couldn't tell what it was like.
The minister brought me back a pile of hard-boiled eggs and quietly put them on my desk. When he told me not to forget to take it back and eat it, he only said that if I went he would be happier. I smiled and said thank you and didn't explain anything.
I didn't want to go to the city where the minister lived after graduation, and when I was chatting, the minister also said that he would return to the city where he lived after graduation, the speaker had no intention, the listener was intentional, so I stopped the pace of getting closer to the minister in time.
2
After that, I began to alienate my subjects, silently and painfully, smearing my unforgettable memories of youth. The minister asked several times, but he was frozen by my indifference. That cloud of sorrow and fog is really difficult to extricate.
Every look in the minister's eyes, every smile, took root in my mind and lingered; every word he said, every word made me full of tears... Sorrow hung over the sky of my soul, and I wandered all day. I thought I had become a slave to my feelings, so I said silently in my heart: Minister, spare me. Let the tide of my feelings run along the valley of reason!
One night, I had a dream in which silent tears soaked the pillow when I woke up. The heart is still trembling, the tears are still rolling, and the aftertaste of the dream is still lingering in the heart. Minister, don't, don't leave me like this, I groaned. I was haunted by pain, and the subject could only appear in dreams, and...
It is often said that love is fearless, but I am afraid, and it seems that my feelings for him are at best likes. I don't know what force prompted me to go outside. It was very dark outside, and my heart was extremely afraid, but I was still walking aimlessly in the playground, with infinite misery and sorrow in my heart. However, I did not continue to cry, the tears had dried up. I often recall the tolerance and generosity of the subject, and often recall the enlightenment and expectations of the subject. Often– there is unspeakable desolation and helplessness in the heart. The sky of the mind is often foggy, and the night sky of the mind is often without stars. And I, often groping in the fog, often lost in the fog. Tonight, there are no stars, there is a thick fog, and I am lost in the fog...
The dead party saw my strange appearance and asked the reason, and I prevaricated. The dead party said that he couldn't understand you, inexplicably, but you still liked him, and your eyes wouldn't lie. I was silent.
Time always passes quietly, perhaps because of the passage of time, and the feelings for the subject seem to be becoming more and more indifferent, and instead they are appreciated and reminisced from the perspective of a bystander. I pray that only good memories remain in my memory.
That night I went to the canteen to eat, and just walked into the canteen, and happened to come out. I wanted to say something, but I didn't say it, I only smiled in return, and the minister also smiled, very tired, as if he had just woken up. At this point, I wish he had taken the initiative to speak to me, but he did not. We nodded our heads at each other and brushed past each other, my heart pounding. Have we really become passers-by?
I sat alone at the window, my mind blank, a silent sigh. Away from the laughter and teasing between my former friends and resonating with each other, I became a prisoner of my own heart, completely closed myself, bound in a narrow circle, and tasted loneliness alone. Gazing out the window, the night was thick, I couldn't make out anything, only to know that I was lost again, lost in the thick night, lost in the loneliness that was difficult to chew.
There is always a passion, an impulse, wanting to write a long acacia around the subject. Always want to melt him with hot feelings, hot bosoms. I always want to be with him, turn into a bay of spring water, and blend with each other. However, this is not the case, he is still him, I am still me.
Unconsciously, I found myself changed, no longer the lively and cheerful, carefree me. I became sentimental and depressed. My heart is struggling in contradiction, I can't go on any longer, I'm going to tear up the net that imprisons me, I'm going to laugh at tomorrow. I have made a determination to renew myself a thousand times, to constantly pursue and forge ahead, but how much I have done and how much I have lost. My heart is often whispering, lonely and sad, please stay away from me, but I always linger in the shadow of my subjects, and I am almost suffocated.
That day I sat quietly on the grass, arms around my knees, looking fixedly into the distance. Everything in front of you seems to exist, as if time and space are stagnant in this world. What is written on my face is not sorrow, nor is it a longing, but what is reflected in my eyes is not a dream, nor is it nothingness. An elusive, ethereal emotion surged through my bloodstream. The world under the eyes is unrealistic, but it is also not completely empty. In this way, I sat down all the time, stupidly, sat down, sat down.
I know that in a short time we will have to leave. The thought of parting, the separation of sorrow ripples in the heart. I don't want to be separated so easily, but I have to avoid it, even though I know that parting is imminent.
Smiling happily at the xueyou, when they missed each other, they recognized the subject from the crowd. Everything else was gone, and only one subject shook in front of me. So I continued to light the spark of my smile, illuminating the subject but hurriedly retreating. The minister picked up my smile and hung it on his cheek, his eyes were full of affection, and I still hurried to avoid. I, who seemed to be free to flee back, was tied up by the courtiers. His eyes told me he was going to have a chance. And I, cowering and avoiding. I deeply condemned myself as to why I saw him still fluttering like a floating cloud, like a boat in the middle of the evil waves, losing course.
The most charming time is when the minister is smiling, and every time we meet or talk, he always uses a smile as a material. When I talked to him, I felt like I was in a trance and my mind was dull. I didn't dare to get too close to him, for fear of revealing my heart, and wanted to be intimate with him, but I deliberately avoided it. Want to love without loving, afraid and afraid, love is also a kind of harm. I wrote down the name of my subject over and over again, and then I hastily erased it, for fear of being seen by others, and only hid it deep in my heart. Remembering the unforgettable emotions that were silently buried in my heart, I couldn't help but burst into tears.
The resistance was not strong, and I actually caught a cold. Being sick is a pain, but hurting is a deeper pain. Am I so painstakingly restraining myself so that I don't hurt my subject too much when I graduate? But I myself was scarred. In the ambivalent feelings toward the subject, I floated, floated. Since I can "let the heavens and the earth have feelings to allow me to be drunk", why can't I laugh at people without words and laugh at people's sorrows?
3
Before graduation, I transcribed my diary novel "Feelings for You" in the diary that my minister gave me. It was his birthday present to me, and he knew I had a habit of keeping a diary, so he gave me a diary as a gift every year. When I gave the transcription to my courtier, I only calmly told him that it was a memory of youth and should be kept as a souvenir.
What should belong to you in life will definitely belong to you, and those who are destined to be without you will also pass away. Therefore, in the bottom of my heart, I said to my subjects countless times: I love you, and I have no regrets or regrets. Well, just let life wait, wait for the next drift, wait for the next wound. And I, in the end, love you without regrets.
When the train to my return home started, the sweaty figure of the minister appeared in my field of vision. I held out my hand, and he found me, desperately waving. I waved softly to him, goodbye, my love, you are the most beautiful encounter of my life.
The past is like smoke, and occasionally, I think that when it is time to love, I should love freely, even if it is full of scales. Lest in the future, if you want to love, you will also feel that you have missed the season and lost the beauty.
Self-introduction: Today's headline is a small white, my name is Sunflower's slow life. My head is like a sunflower, I like the way it blooms, like a smiling face; I like its persistence, single-mindedness. Once racked his brains, praised it: Aoi, a thousand times but for whom, acacia dreams, with the sunset. Loved words and wanted to open up a meadow here. Welcome to like, comment, encourage, welcome friendly exchanges...