Have you ever returned to your old campus and recalled your youth?

In fact, I often feel nostalgic. I often think of all the things I did when I was studying, and I think of the laughter on campus. Now, I am no longer young, but I still miss my youth very much.

When I am free, I always ride my bike alone and wander aimlessly. Many times, I will walk through high school and never have the courage to walk in, because there will be no more you, no more familiar faces and no more unforgettable memories.

One accidental afternoon in the summer vacation, I finally got up the courage to go in.

It's still the familiar school gate, the familiar grass and trees, the place that has been scolded countless times but doesn't want to be scolded once by others. I admire myself very much. No matter where you go, you will never forget the bits and pieces in your memory. It is like a brand, deeply imprinted in my memory. When I turn over, breathe and walk, it will come out.

Some people say that children who live in memories will never grow up. Then I'd rather never grow up.

The students are all on vacation. The once lively campus is now quiet enough to hear their breathing, which is a bit scary. I walked up the stairs that I had walked through countless times layer by layer, as if I were remembering one by one along the memory. On the first floor, I thought of you who were still with me at that time, who would make me laugh when I was unhappy, and who would share with me when I was happy; On the second floor, I thought of you who taught me hard, you who will be happier than me when I get good grades, and you who will patiently enlighten me when I encounter difficulties; The third floor ... the stairs that used to be impatient after walking for a long time have become so short now. How I wish it could last a little longer, with no end.

The sixth floor, the sixth floor that used to shuttle back and forth, the classroom that used to laugh and laugh, I am here, and you?

Walk in. It's still a familiar place, or a constant decoration, but the blackboard newspapers we have tried to describe together, the inspirational slogans we have planned and written together, have all changed. It seems to tell me that this place no longer belongs to me. There used to be a group of owners here. You were all passers-by. Yes, who is not a passerby?

I found my place and sat down, and those fragments in my memory were displayed one by one: I discussed in groups in my study; In the exam, everyone is immersed in sweat; When I was bored, I got together in groups of three and five to gossip: who was with whom again and who broke up with whom: the countdown to the college entrance examination was always written on the blackboard, as well as the teacher's serious face and an occasional smile. ...

All this, as if just yesterday, has gone away for so long.

What we once thought was vivid has long since ceased to exist.

I forgot how long it took me to sit down. Just like walking on the road of memories, one day it will return to reality, at a certain time and place.

I walked along the playground while there was still time. Once there, countless students lost their youth. I like sports, and I also like to watch people on the sports field strive for their ideals step by step and surpass themselves. Youth, struggle, is perfect. But now, it is lonely, only those basketball frame, and the football stands are still there. Finally understand what is empty, people walk tea cool.

From the moment I walked out of the school gate, I knew I would say goodbye to this place where I buried my memory for three years. After all, people have to move forward and look forward. Just like youth, no matter how tightly you hold it, it will always slip away from your fingertips, from your breath and from your indecision when you are not paying attention.

In fact, youth, only when you squander, you will feel its importance, and only when you squander, it will be as bitter as drinking tea and swallowing it in your throat, but the aftertaste is sweet. Only in this way will you try harder to catch it.

But the saddest thing now is to get on this train of youth. Although I don't want to, my insensitive feet are still rushing forward. When you want to get off the bus, you find that the train ran over your once proud youth.

Pu Shu's song rings in my ears: Are you all old? Where are they? We just go our separate ways. ...

Youth is gone forever, but memories will always be in my heart, and I will always miss you I miss!