The deepest sad diary of the world of mortals in May

Halfway up the mountain, a suona rang in the lonely heart. In a trance, I saw you wearing a red suit, smiling in the blue sky in May, with soft white clouds, leaving me alone outside the curtain to avoid the melancholy of my life.

I covered my eyes with spring red, but I couldn't get rid of the ripples in my heart;

Away from downtown, the countryside tied my front again, and suddenly I dreamed that you were standing in that alley, waving to me, laughing and crying hard.

Melancholy in the mirror

Liking Mei comes more from the person you love. Although love has become a distant past, the scars left by love have never faded, but they are deeply embedded in the soul. Therefore, as always, Aimei seems to have nothing to do with love, but it is actually a sequela of love!

The gentle wind outside the window brought the noise of the city during the day, and the sunshine was everywhere and warm. The first feeling of getting up with a sleepy eye is that the soft light is emitting infinite warmth and comfort, which must be a good weather for washing clothes.

After getting up, I tied my hair behind my head at random, and then chose an old skirt with black background and white spots in the closet to wear on me, standing in front of the mirror and staring at myself stupefied.

Actually, I don't like to have too much contact with the mirror. I just use it to straighten my clothes. Because I don't like makeup, I naturally have less communication with the mirror. Moreover, I always thought I was just an ordinary woman, so I didn't do the accidents of these beautiful people.

Today, however, I suddenly felt the urge to look in the mirror.

I still look very ordinary in the mirror. If I look at it more, I feel old. Eyes are no longer clear, hiding some random emotions, chaotic and gloomy, with fine lines in the corners of the eyes, yellow face, faint spots on cheeks, and no longer so rosy, chapped and pale lips, obviously lacking nutrition and moisture.

The only thing that hasn't changed much is the figure, which is as thin as ever. Although I have become a mother, my waist is still slim and my abdomen is flat. You can't see any fat. This may be the only blessing from heaven, but it is also an ordinary branch!

A melancholy rose from my heart, and I turned away from the mirror.

Yes, everyone loves beauty, not to mention a young woman who is still wandering in her youth and even yearning for love.

I used to think that love is also related to beauty, and happiness is naturally haggle over every ounce with beauty? And I feel inferior and sigh more than once because of my ordinary. It was not until I met an ordinary young couple that I gradually degenerated into such a stupid and ridiculous idea.

They are a young couple in their thirties. The education level is not high, and the appearance is even more plain. My wife and I have been colleagues for some time.

She is not tall, about 1.5 meters, plump but not lazy, and looks a little affectionate from the back. But her appearance is really average, even ugly. Slightly narrow cheeks are covered with small black spots, and the dense black is covered with a layer of powder. It looks like a naughty child painted a lot of black spots on his mother's pink skirt, which is in sharp contrast with the color of his neck. Coupled with the matching of red and brown hair, it is really tacky.

Her eyebrows were specially painted with two red willow leaves, and her eyes were only a crack, and she almost closed when she smiled. Lips are painted with bright lipstick and teeth are irregularly arranged.

It is such an ugly girl who spends every day in happiness. They have been married for nine years, but they still love each other as before, even more. The tall and unremarkable man regarded her as a treasure and took good care of her.

Every day after work, a man will appear at the door of the unit on time, just standing quietly, waiting for his woman to run over. Women always run to him. He smiled and put her in the back seat of the bike. Women hug men from behind and then disappear into the traffic.

It is windy and rainy every day, and it never stops.

For them, a short separation every day is like a long separation, and men will call and chat with women one after another. The content of the chat is not clear, but from the happy expression on women's faces, it can be seen that men must be saying some sweet love words.

During that time, working with her became my torment. Her happiness makes my eyes moist and jealous. I don't want to see the shadow of their love, and I don't want to participate in her happy story, so I avoid her, because she makes me envy and make me feel bad about my loneliness.

Loneliness, or missing, can't stand being provoked. But such a humble woman satirizes my existence, my loneliness and my complaints with her happiness of more than 1000 times.

I always thought that the loneliness and loneliness now, or your leaving, are all because you are plain, so happiness doesn't want to be with me, and love doesn't want to be with me.

But when I witnessed the love between such an ordinary couple, even I began to hate my dirty thoughts. No wonder happiness passed me by as a woman without self-confidence?

It turns out that happiness is only related to happiness, not to looks, nor to status and power. For such a long time, I have been looking for love and happiness in the wrong field. How can I get it?

So, will the lost happy time come back because of my awakening?

The answer isno. In addition to self-confidence, happiness is a product of fate and a kind of cultivation in my opinion. Nature has nothing to do with ugliness, which seems more appropriate.

Then, what I have lost is only because the fate is over. We only repaired the boat crossing, only the brush, but not the fate of sleeping.

So, how can I get your beauty?

For a moment, I felt very lost. When I missed climbing my brow along the mirror, I thought I would be indifferent. However, in this quiet morning, some emotions are like spring flowers, so strong that they want to bloom. In fact, they just frowned, but they thought of it. Sadness.

Time of pulley rotation

It's another May. How much time has passed and how much lovesickness has passed. However, this exciting May is unforgettable, just like a pulley waiting at the well, coming back again and again with many dreams and memories.

May, charming and affectionate.

Catkins are flying in the blue sky, like snowflakes that will not melt, as beautiful and romantic as the story of flying in fairy tales.

May is also the season of fragrant Sophora japonica. The tall branches of Sophora japonica are covered with snow-white broken flowers, and clusters are next to each other. Looking from a distance, it is more like the glittering and translucent first frost and snow piled up on the branches, and the wind is tottering.

Wave after wave of fragrance filled me, accompanied by petals, flying around my whole body, only to understand that dazzling beauty is not crystal snow, but the color of flowers.

I remember that May when we met, there were no Sophora japonica flowers, but there were furry catkins around us, which seemed to be a blessing. Looking back now, it should be more mourning!

Those catkins are flying in my mind, flying with her femininity, flying with her charm, flying with her innocence, flying with her arbitrariness, flying with your eyes looking at me, flying with the depression between my forced smiles.

I still remember the one that fell in my hand. Maybe it infected my sadness, became so gloomy and depressed, and suddenly became a kind of sadness, which was better than autumn's sadness.

It turns out that it takes only a moment to love someone, but it costs so much to forget someone.

The wind in May came slowly, blowing up too many memories and fragments of our love.

The morning sun shines through the cracks in the bamboo curtain, and the shadows are scattered all over the floor like broken gold, as well as our love, which is shapeless and disorganized.

I know, deeply know, that your siege will cut off all our memories, all our appointments, and I will never see the thoughts you wrote for me between the lines again;

I know that your siege will isolate our past and surround your happiness, and my face will never burn on your cigarette butts that never go out at night;

I know your breath won't be breathed alone in my Miri, Malaysia and Malaysia, and you won't drink up the glass I left you when you raise your glass.

I know you won't write grievances again, read Tang Wan, and your A San won't sing for me until dawn.

I know that you won't be alone in love with sadness, and you won't think of that charming May again.

Everything has passed, you have your life, and I have my direction. This life will not be connected, nor will it cross that day. I will only watch you laugh, watch you worry and watch you grow old in my missing inner senses.

Three emotions go hand in hand.

Dragging myself out of the wave of memories reminds me of the folds of washing clothes.

I took some clothes and put them in the washbasin, crouched beside the water pipe exposed to the sun, and began to play with colorful washing powder bubbles floating in the water.

This is my favorite game when I was a child. My brother and I were holding a hollow wooden tube and blowing hard at a basin full of washing powder water. I was very happy. I don't feel dirty or bored. At that time, the mind was like those transparent but colored bubbles, happy and clear.

This moment, not because of happiness, but because of endless sadness.

My back was burned by the sunshine in May, and I was as lonely as a baby. Lying on my back, I was in harmony with the sunshine, which only made me breathless.

I started rubbing every piece of clothes, trying to make myself tired and the baby on my back as tired as me, so that I could go to bed early and forget the pain of memories.

The sun is very hot in May, and the washed clothes soon dry. The clothes are warm, and the smell of sunshine and washing powder is mixed with the smell of sunshine. Holding it in your arms is very happy, like the taste of love.

Yes, it smells of love, May, happiness, missing and you.

Looking up is to prevent tears from falling.

The sky is blue and ethereal, romantic dreams are floating in quiet clouds, and Bai Jie is like cotton.

The wind gently brushed my cheeks and forehead in gauze clothing, which was warm, like the feeling that your tender hands had wiped my tears. Soft-haired dance interfered with my vision of the sky and brought me into a magical space. I saw the blue sky divided into blue, like a river flowing on one side, surging wave by wave, with a fine loneliness. Clouds change their posture from time to time and look more like billowing waves in the sea. Some are cute and naughty, and some are gloomy and silent.

I miss you suddenly, and my heart breaks. Such blue, such clouds, such beautiful but lonely colors and distant places make my heart empty and terrible.

You just suddenly left, leaving this empty space, barren and empty and growing wildly, extending to the realm of the heart.

And this fragile heart is full of holes and scars.

The light and soft skirt is cleverly attached to the body by the wind, soft and gentle, comforting me, like a mother's hand and a child's little hand. Look down at your own shadow, slender and slender, like a beautiful ink silhouette in a picture scroll, delicate and delicate. I think this should be my best time, but unfortunately I only enjoy myself.

Feelings are like shadows. As long as they are in sunny fields, shadows always stick to them, and they are more persistent and infatuated than all the feelings in the emotional world.

What happened today? I tried my best to contain the attack of memories, but I found the shadows of elongated memories everywhere, swaying, bright and numerous, just like drifting on the sea, endless blue.

You can't escape. Then indulge, indulge in memories, indulge in missing, indulge in everything that has been lost and then worry. Perhaps, it is also because of those who missed me in the past!

Four encounters in memory

An old suit wears your breath and the bits and pieces we used to be together.

That may, the afternoon when I met you.

Warm wind blows my tied hair, and I casually walk in the street where you may appear according to the idea of fate.

Think about everything you said, every joke you told. I can't remember the content of every joke you told me, but no matter how hard I try, I can't forget your narcissistic and arrogant smile in my own jokes, which made me beat my chest.

In those days, happiness was like a romantic evening. Our smiles, our hair and our eyes were all dyed golden by the sunset, and our vows were all inlaid with the most dazzling colors.

That time is our most precious time, and a thousand dollars is hard to change.

I thought that such a dark color would not fade easily, but time is really a great freshener. Everything so beautiful has been mercilessly added with a pale color and turned into a deep memory burial.

Think of that encounter, as if it were a lifetime ago.

When I saw you slowly overflow from my sight, I remembered that you said that fate was predestined, and every encounter was not accidental.

I don't know if fate is as fragile as you say, or if I deliberately look for this lock that has already broken my heart.

Maybe you really don't know where I happen to be.

Maybe you really thought I was just passing by.

I should, maybe I really should tell you that I have been standing for a long time, looking through the autumn water in the street.

I also want to tell you that I just want to be lucky enough to see you here, walk into my sight and walk in the bustling crowd.

My name suddenly sounded in this noisy street, cordial and vicissitudes, stinging my heart and blurring my eyes; The sound bent my pants and shook my high heels; The sound disturbed my steps, my left and right; It awakened my love, my thoughts and everything between us.

So many words are in my throat, so many tears are waiting in my eyes, so many smiles are buried in my lips, so many blessings are in my arms, so many regrets are in my hands.

After all, I only let you smile and float past my eyes, leaving only a faint smell of tobacco in the wind. I don't have the courage to say a complete sentence with you when I watch you gradually become a point and then be sucked away by the quicksand of the world.

I think this is what it feels like to meet again after a long separation, nervous, strange and afraid.

I thought I could find some memories to pay homage to our parting, our love, the carnival when we were young, the grave dug for me in your heart, and the coffin left for you in my heart.

After the palpitation, I realized that I was in tears. I remembered not only a yellowed memory, but also a grief as outrageous as Wang Yang's. It was a funeral.

It's all the corners we chased, it's all the moments when we fell in love, it's all you, it's all songs, it's all poems, it's all words, and we can't help it.

Those moments, I thought it would be a permanent freeze.

Those stars, those moons, those wine mixed with happiness, those poetic cigarette butts, a love letter, a lock, a photo frame, a call and a response have all gone away, as far as the sea thousands of years ago.

Meet again in the deepest part of the world of mortals

You chose to bid farewell to the past in May, and I also heard the departure of spring, saw the withering of flowers, saw the lightness of your wave, saw the tears flowing into my heart, and saw the shadow of our souls walking left and right.

You have laughed, and so have I.

How can it be broken into such a shape? How can depression be so painful? Why is it like walking away when acting? Did I get my lines wrong, or did you play the wrong process?

No, it's me. I act quickly. I trampled on your mutual affection. I desecrated the dream you were still waiting for. I mistakenly promised the fate of the end.

A rare coincidence in the player, the deepest reunion of the world of mortals, and the soft and sad tune, suddenly I feel that I can see wisps of notes floating around many bends, just like a soul.

In an instant, sadness is everywhere, even every note, every breath I take is sad.

That kind of sadness has nothing to do with sad words, but a kind of synaesthesia, which can be seen with eyes and smelled with nose.

Listening repeatedly is like listening to a touching story.

Because of this song, some words can't help pouring out of my mind, surrounding me, and there is a long chuckle in the air:

On the blooming night, the crescent moon smiles and the wind dances gently. I am waiting by the river of dreams alone, looking forward to it. Would you like to sail a boat to the other shore where I am waiting?

The wind in May wrinkled the heart of the waves, rippled in circles, and there was no loneliness on the side, only a lonely moon, which was dizzy with the surrounding clouds and gave off a faint light.

The past, tied to incense, has already burned to ashes, fragrant, riding the wind, wrapped around your back that has resolutely passed.

You said, tired of waiting, you said, when I miss you, the person who adds fragrance to tea, I will come back, leaving only me, awakened again and again by your bright smile in a painful nightmare.

Waiting, staying in the rocking chair, tears dripping on the wind chimes in front of the window, dragging long tenderness, shaking the past like a shadow, shaking the long sunset.

Waiting in the ancient moon palace, I counted the lost years over and over again. If life has no end, the sun rises, the situation returns, and the world of mortals is deep, I want to meet you again, I want to meet you again.

Finally, you got tired of the world of mortals after 2008, and then quietly came back in May after 1000 years.

Holding my hand, smiling, my tears, flowing happily.

You laugh at my infatuation, I laugh at my infatuation