Classic masterpieces are immortal works.

Poverty in late summer is more absurd than heat. The temperature rises in a straight line, the temperature doesn't drop, we can't wait for rain or sunset ... it seems that we are always behind.

So, I lay at home decadent and put myself in the innermost layer of the steamer. I never thought I was lucky enough to escape. I didn't turn on the air conditioner. I thought I was cool-headed and naturally cool. I thought that sitting still and sweating was also a way to lose weight. I thought I was cultivating my huge heart, but the chat box popped up: You are abusing yourself!

Desperate summer vacation, fingers that can't move can't be turned into computers that can automatically pronounce words, cutting off all illusions. We went to ktv to shout all night, singing with all our strength and wasting our youth with all our strength. When the morning light covers the earth, walks out of the bright midnight and sings march of the volunteers with the last sound, we find that you and I are still alive. When our eyes slowly rise along the little red in the distance, we will respect and salute.

I was laughed at as a fool by my companions around me, but I didn't refute it. I continued to giggle, and the small effect of alcohol made people drunk. The next second, I vomited on the trash can on the roadside, and I was despised by my aunt who swept the street in the morning, which led to criticism. Suddenly I have the desire to have a big fight. As a result, I was chased all over the street by a deformed broom before I could speak.

so this is it？ A joke.

Every youth is immortal-

I won't get old, even if I don't have an elixir, and I don't squander RMB on paper to pay for expensive beauty expenses:

I won't be baked into a phoenix by the hot sun. Even if I am tied into a mummy and walk in the street, I won't put layers of sunscreen on my face:

I just miss, miss those things that have passed, but are deeply embedded in my mind. That's called memory. At that time, we were dressed in neat school uniforms and combed with neat hairstyles, but we only pierced our ears with tea stalks, which was clever and unconventional, and we didn't wear earrings. Even though we scoff at the rigid broadcast gymnastics, we still swim slowly to the playground with the big team every day. There used to be little sisters who could confide in each other, but the object of communication was not keen on basking in happiness, just holding hands and occasionally one.

I forgot that the best way seems to be to wrap yourself in a thick cocoon like a silkworm. We will not be hurt or hurt if we hide in it, thinking that this is the best policy, but it is also a miscalculation and isolation. What benefits can we get, but we are getting farther and farther away from those who care about you, making those who ignore you and hate you more arrogant.

And one day, you decide to break out of the cocoon and find that the world no longer belongs to you as you think, your best friend has become someone else's friend, and your lover has become someone else's lover. Everything is terrible.