When the last leaf told us in a falling posture that winter had really come, and the cold wind whizzed in my ears with the sadness of a season, I closed my eyes and quietly waited for the time of the four seasons to fall at this moment, and of course, my ruined youth.
I spent three years adapting to the city, but in the end I couldn't integrate into the city, and I found that the dream of the city was too far away from me, like a cloud in the sky, out of reach. Every day I hurriedly left my own figure in all corners of the city, but I could not find my own place to stay, perhaps, I did not belong here.
Three years ago, when I first stepped into this place, my fate had already taken a turn, perhaps as my friend said, I should be a screenwriter or writer, but I still chose this planning path, running on the road of marketing planning for three years, although I was confident that I would run out of good results, but outside of work, my footsteps had just stepped out of the starting line.
I am a free-thinking person, which means that I cannot be bound by rules and regulations, but I am not a wise person, because the city is full of rules, and I can't break them. I used to be stubbornly unrestricted and unchecked for the freedom of thought, and I was once hit on the head and bleeding, and I was destitute in this city. Over the years, I've gained as much as I've lost.
I dreamed that on the way of planning, I could point out the country, and then watch my achievements unfold in front of the world, when I finally woke up in a dream full of excitement, surrounded by endless darkness, and I was in the middle of the darkness, being swallowed up little by little. The moment I finally fumbled for the switch and turned on the light, I saw no hope, but rather the faint light of the desolation of the whole world. Yes, the night is long, but the light is so small, even thin.
Every morning, I hurriedly washed my face, brushed my teeth, and then sorted out my clothes to start the day's rush, and every night I came home, with the exhaustion of the day, guarding the empty soul, on the crowded bus, I could not even see the city lights, only the crowd, the impetuous heart. The bus is like a stomach, people keep stuffing it, then fermenting in it, digesting it, and then being spit out one by one because of nausea.
Very early on, I kept the habit of writing journals, because I felt that life was meaningful, although I was not remembered by others, although I was so small and insignificant in the eyes of others, I still believed that I had left my bits and pieces at least on this paper medium. But when I look back and read, my heart burned a little sadness, and in a person's three hundred and sixty-five days, even if the sky is clear, I can't find a trace of sunshine.
So I gave up the habit of keeping it for more than twenty years, facing the computer, sinking into the muddy years, I no longer cared about the neon lights on the road, I no longer lingered on the beauty of the mountains and rivers, and even I was unwilling to pursue that beautiful love. The smile began to fade in my life, the sadness slowly climbed inside my little room, my expression monotonous like a reinforced concrete wall, no waves, no ripples, just like that in the corner of the unappreciated corner, indifferently watching.
I sometimes wonder, what else is there in such a society? Sometimes I think that there must be no intriguing stories in such a city. Repeating the fate of our generation by Heaven all day long, we have no strength to resist except to accept. As Wang Feng's lyrics say, we live here, we die here. When the lights of the city mock our downfall, what else do we have? A man, guarding a pool of affection, slowly weakened into the earth.
But God has ironically given us an unwilling character, dick silk, dreams are thinking of counterattack, so the inflammatory trend has become a shortcut for us to climb up, sneaking and patting the horse, becoming the motto we have engraved in our hearts, we seem to have forgotten that success lies in the down-to-earth struggle, on the way to find shortcuts, but occupy more of our time. When we become two people inside and outside, when we can no longer distinguish between work and career, someone suddenly praises you one day, "Look, that's a successful person."
I felt that if that was the case, would that person still be me? No, he didn't have the simplicity I have now, he didn't have the simplicity I have now, he sold his soul for money, and I don't know if I should be proud if such a day really comes, or whether I will sacrifice my lost soul in an inexplicable mood. I don't know whether I should be proud or lament the lost youth of somewhat silly youth. I don't know whether the love at that time was still the love I was looking for, success, and sometimes how much pure love was buried.
When we went to elementary school, junior high school, and finally walked into the door of the university, we found that ignorance is the greatest happiness, I would rather keep the life of sheep herding, sheep herding, wife, baby, sheep, when we think that the clever philosopher satirizes the shepherd boy, in fact, I do not have the happiness of the shepherd boy.
And now, the cold wind of winter blows into the past of youth, and the life under the tragic white moon, how can it be compared to the fisherman who wants to be at ease?