Joy and Joy
"Successful flowers are only admired for the brilliance of its reality, but its buds were soaked with the fountain of tears of struggle and sprinkled with the blood rain of sacrifice. "No matter how much mud and thorns you walk through, or how many stories of suffering you tell people, if you are a loser, you are boring to say anything; on the contrary, you are a successful person, and before you can open your mouth, someone spits out his tongue, hunches his head, and sticks flowers to you.
Our hits are sometimes so tragic and joyful!
Don't listen to the winner's acceptance speech, listen to the bitter lessons of the loser.
The morning light was faint, and I could faintly hear the cries of cuckoos, and a breeze gently blew through the sad face, blowing away the melancholy that filled my heart... And at dusk, sitting in the courtyard, a few spoonfuls of noodle soup, the light and shadow of the sunset shine on the body of the elderly couple... Fortunately, in this era of materialistic desires, there is still a trace of concern and nostalgia.
With sorrow and joy, watch the clouds cirrus clouds, flowers blossom and fall, listen to chickens and dogs barking... I haven't written in some time, and my best friend, Mr. Lee Ho Ho, sent me several books urging me to keep writing. Looking at those books, I was ashamed of Mr. Li's kindness!
In a person's life, on the one hand, he advocates ideals, and on the other hand, he is a few pieces of silver.
Under the influence of the enlightenment teacher, I have always insisted on this so-called pursuit of life, but the reality is like this: on the one hand, I call on you to chase bravely, and on the other hand, I refuse to give up my obstruction of it.
When I first learned about writing, I was in the sixth grade of elementary school, ignorant, naïve, and didn't involve too much thinking. Because one of his modern poems was praised by the teacher in public and did a model text, this made me neglect to learn, have a little confidence in writing, and persist in the form of writing a diary.
The essays written in high school (most of which are for life insights) were also taken by the same window to point out. Later, I began to write a complete article, the manuscript writing was completed, the network platform was moved, and then the same window helped me print it between teachers and students, and Mr. Wang and Mr. Guo dragged people to write ghostwriters, under the influence of such an atmosphere, I had more confidence in writing. Live up to expectations, live up to recognition.
With the urging of the years and the enlightenment of growth, I understood that in such a fast-paced era of life, in such a society of fame and fortune, writing is not the life I want very much.
Some people say that the article is written for others to read. But in my opinion, it is probably used to soothe the soul! Maybe it's their own shallow ignorance! I don't think lyricism is the only path like this. Blowing the evening breeze and watching the sunset is undoubtedly not a pleasure.
Since the release of some works such as "Wine Erosion" and "Snow in a Small Town" in the "Qinzhou Micro-Journal" and "Xitri Wenyuan", I have deeply realized that this is not a suitable way of life for me, and can only be used as a hobby in my spare time. Not too many people will look at what you have written, especially some of the slightly longer articles. On the contrary, someone's sad quote in the circle of friends will peel off the sympathy and greetings of many people.
But who knows about his own torture and persistence? After being published in the "Qinzhou Micro-Journal", the so-called "writer" was born. I read the article she went to submit, and I also saw a face that was only tall and eight buckets... I kept revising sentences late at night, and sadly I didn't dare to think about it and deliberate much. That kind of late night, almost the next day's intertwined brain juice, very tired and painful. In that situation, I learned that a foreign writer says he is writing at the rate of one sentence a week. It is also a sense of Haiko's suicide on the rail, Kiyo Mishima's suicide by cutting his abdomen, Yasunari Kawabata's death with gas in his mouth, and Osamu Dazai's farewell to the world after writing "Human Disqualification"... After seeing through the filth of the world, I experienced the difficulty of moving, and chose to go straight to the end.
I have never dared to be jealous of the goodness of other people's families, but I just hate myself for the sake of the human feelings behind the fame and fortune in the world!
In the midst of turbulence and displacement, it is also called rebirth from the fire. This is only a word difference between survival and life, but it is a world of difference.
About the Author:
Tiger Tiger, formerly known as Sang Yuan, formerly known as Yan Junpeng. Born in 2002, a native of Qin'an, Gansu. Prose works include "Old Peasant", "Will Live", "Lifting pen, not what my heart desires", etc., composed of essays "Tiger's Mouth Escape", modern poetry includes "Nian Yi Que De Ren Haggard", "Feed the Horse Traveler", "I Wish To Be", etc., the article "Snow in a Small Town" was published in "Xitri Wenyuan", "Wine Erosion", "If There Is an Afterlife", "Young Xing" was published in "Qinzhou Micro-Journal". He is good at recording life and expressing emotions with words, and likes calligraphy writing and traditional musical instruments.