Lend me a lifetime, your ride

It's not a story, it's not an accident, it's just scattered memories. They have all been active in my mind, and they have all been lost to my world... If I say that human growth is simply the accumulation and accumulation of memories, no one should object to it. The purest forms of growth are often presented in the simplest way.

Late one night, the mood was complicated and it was difficult to sleep, so I turned on a radio station to help sleep. Only to hear a beautiful and emotional female voice on the other end of the radio reading an article with great emotion - "Your life, I only borrow a ride.". The article is not very long, and the content of the article is very similar to most of the current (chicken soup text), except for the female voice. After listening to the radio, my heart sank, I don't know if it was because of the female voice or because of the prose.

The radio said: "Life is one farewell after another, and between people, it is just a journey of fate." When you come, I greet you with joy; when you leave, I will not ask you to go. At the end of the radio, he said: "Thank you for the person who borrowed us a ride, because borrowing your ride has satisfied me for a lifetime." The dusty memories became more and more recognizable with the end of the article and the female voice, as if the old things that had been torn off and covered with old cloths, dust and old cloths flew together, only the old things were safe, as if they had no quarrel with the world and had nothing to do with time. What had been a little bit of drowsiness suddenly became completely absent.

Touching my memory, there are always a few people who come to my mind first. They were all the people I was most willing to communicate with, they were all people who borrowed a ride from me, and they were also people who taught me to abandon my inferiority and dare to break through myself. For a long time afterwards, I was thinking about a question: Why do the girls I know are better than me? Why do I always meet people who are like-minded but can't be with them for a lifetime? Perhaps, it is because we have all known each other on the Internet, have existed in the virtual world, and have all let go of our disguises in real life. Or maybe the theory that fish and bear paws can't have both is getting in the way.

Brushing away the dust on my memory, the first thing that caught my eye was a book friend. The memories she gave me were domineering, barbaric, and weak that I discovered later. At first, she called herself a "bandit", so I had to "throw" two books that I had just bought and had not yet been opened, perhaps frightened by her "banditry", or perhaps I was full of curiosity about this "bandit friend". As I became more and more acquainted, her knowledge and ability became the most admired and inferior point to me. That being said, these can't be the keys to remembering her.

I remember that in the cold winter of that year, a very cold night, I received a call from her. On the other end of the phone, there was a righteous complaint, followed by a short silence, I thought she was thinking of words, but I didn't expect her to be in tears. The moment I learned the truth, I was like a soul-snatched body, obsessively fixed there, unable to utter a word of comfort. Who would have thought that a self-proclaimed "bandit" would shed tears, but it seems that I also forgot that she was still a girl. After many years, whenever I think of a girl who once shed tears because of me, my heart is always warm, like a lonely child, remembering the motherly love she once had. Although this metaphor is a bit inappropriate, it is indeed a memory that I cannot erase to this day, that contrast, that kind of untouchable, and that kind of non-lover's friendship...

If the first "reminiscent" reads a little sentimental, then the next one will appear bland. Between me and her, it is probably the most in line with the definition and standard of humanity regarding pure friendship between men and women. On weekdays, in addition to sharing some interesting things about life, we would also talk about words, and my shortcomings of reading less were exposed at that time. Even so, our friendship spans a year, but it is only one. With the increasing scarcity of chattable content, the chat time between us has changed from the first few days to a week, from a week to January, until finally completely disconnected. Although it is a little regrettable, I think it is also complete. As the radio said, "Life is one farewell after another, and between people, it is only a journey of fate." ”

If the process of recall ends here, it may be slightly barren. After all, there are not only these two fragments of friendship in my memory bank that I can remember for a lifetime. In the deepest recesses of my memory, there is another girl who deserves to be remembered for a lifetime. When I met her, she was a college student preparing for graduate school, and in terms of age, she was not the category of friends I should have made, but she became the longest friend. The reason for this may be because she has an older brother who is about the same age as me, and I have a sister who is a few years younger than her. Therefore, daily communication will become very unimpeded. She also said that I was like her long-lost brother, although it was a joke, but at least it could be seen that the friendship between us was more like a family affection.

My acquaintance with her stemmed from an article I once wrote about missing my first love (referring to the first love thing, not the person). After reading it, she felt that I was too sad and pessimistic personally, so she took the initiative to shoulder the heavy responsibility of letting me escape from the "sea of suffering". As for why? I think only she knows it, although she has always stressed that she thinks I am too sad and pessimistic.

As she had hoped, one day I had some kind of change due to her all-time positive and optimistic personality, first with a lift of spirits, then with a complete release, as if nirvana was reborn. When I told her about the situation, she didn't seem too surprised, as if everything was what she expected. I have always been grateful for such a friend, even after the complete disconnection.

Three fragments of memory, three different friendships. One is like love, one interprets friendship, and one reproduces family affection. The life I remember, the journey in their reality. Perhaps, they have long forgotten, and may occasionally think of it. Whatever it is, it is not important to me, what is important is that their journey is enough to borrow enough of my life, although the rest of my life is not over, the rest of my life is still going on, but the memory engraved in my heart is like an old thing that has been sealed up in the dust, it is safe and quiet, only time and years fly together, and everything in the world has nothing to do with it.