A letter from a strange woman
It is a poignant love affair that uses life to interpret "I love you and you have nothing to do with you", 13 years old fell in love at first sight, 19 years old with him for three nights, the woman crawled at his feet like a devout believer, the woman tried her best to get the encounter, just to let the writer remember that she was the girl in the neighbor's house, sadly she was just one of the writer's many sexual encounters. She carried all the burdens of life, the pain of concealment, just so that the writer remembered him, without a trace of worry, so that she became the only one among the women he loved, but it always missed her with love, the irony is that women at the end of their lives, with a pen and ink dipped in a lifetime of infatuation to write a strange letter, after reading the "strange woman", the writer only vaguely felt some emotional clues, but never accurately recalled her image. Even more desperate, the writer's butler recognized her at a glance. I once lamented this crush that spanned my entire life, and Grieve for this purest and most poignant love.
Many years later, I read it again, but I couldn't feel the pure and warm love of this woman who sold herself for love, gave birth to children, and spent her life. What I see is deformed love, the destruction and distortion of human nature. I repeatedly asked, do women really love writers? I don't think so, and the woman wants the writer to recognize her, but only to complete a redemption of self-recovery.
A woman with a single-parent family and her neighbors around her is not normal, she is tired of this poor, dark life, and the appearance of the writer is a bright and warm light for her living in a small world, allowing her to see another world, bright, rich, clean.
If it is love, women do pay a lifetime, from not love to read her, to the first place, read thousands of books, and read until late at night every day, only because the writer likes books, persistent practice of the piano, only because she thinks that the writer likes the piano, this may be the beauty of love, in order to be able to compete with you, I made myself excellent, refused the financial assistance of the rich stepfather, returned to Vienna to engage in clerk work Unfortunately her independence, but can only last until the birth of the child.
If it is love, what a woman has done for this love is only a few times of lust, but it is a pity that love and lust are never equal. She never asked for extravagantly in her love for the writer, just so that the writer could recognize her, and they never told their love for him when they were tied, but hoped that when the writer took her in his arms, he could stir up a vague and distant memory in his heart.
Rather than saying that a woman has devoted her life to loving the writer, it is better to say that she takes the bright and soft light that the writer refracts in her heart, and pursues it as a faith, which is a redemption to find herself, but unfortunately she failed.
Some people also say: If there is no secret love, a woman's life will be more meaningful, that is not always true, because life has no prediction, there is no logic to speak of, we always take the road that has not been traveled, imagining too beautiful, in order to alleviate the burden of life, just like memories.
Although there are no impurities, etc., it is silly to love a lifetime, but for a dry life, it is the whole meaning of life. As Qiong Yao said: After waiting for a lifetime, wanting to see a cup, complaining for a lifetime, hating for a lifetime, but still thanking God for giving a person who can wait, think, hate, and complain.
Perhaps the tragedy of a woman is as she said: I have no life experience, no mental preparation, and I am carried into my destiny, like falling into an abyss.