The beauty of oblivion

Everyone has more or less an ethereal regret in their hearts, perhaps from relatives, friends, or strangers. Inadvertently, it was touched and rippled in the heart. People are always good at forgetting, which may be an instinct for people to protect themselves. I am grateful for this instinct that allows me to always repair myself as time passes. Biologists say that the human body completes the entire renewal every seven years. That is to say, after seven years, every cell in the human body will be replaced by a new cell. At that time, I was shocked to see this fact, and suddenly I felt that there was nothing that could not be passed. Even the whole person has a new look, what else can't be passed?

But there will always be a trace of sadness in the bottom of the heart, no matter how long it has been, no matter how many things have been experienced, there is always a love for someone, a certain thing, a certain object. This may be our wealth, and when we are old and look back on this life, the corners of our mouths will be upturned and a shallow smile will be revealed. Broken mirrors are hard to round and can only be forgotten. Perhaps only forgetting can repair the sadness in the heart. There is a feeling that can only be called forgetting. It is looming in life, never disturbing a comfortable life, and only occasionally floating in a moment of sentimentality. It's as if it's always been there, and it's as if it's been back in another world.

There is a feeling, or forgetting. The original clear picture becomes pale, inexplicably sentimental like the sudden rainstorm of summer without warning, and when you prepare the umbrella, you find that the sky is clear, and only a rain stain confirms that the memory is not false.

There is a feeling that is called forgetting. Pale memories, familiar pain, a clutch. The chase cannot be lost, the young and ignorant miss. How can you fall and overlap in an immersive place, and let the whole body be scaled with salt water. The joy and pain of the past are finally gone, and the silence is left in the ordinary days.

Forgetting is also a kind of happiness.

Forgetting is not the same as losing.

Sunset afterglow