QQ space diary

Rule 1: Hold a pen in your left hand and write love in your right hand.

Who is the sadness in the brow condensed for, who is the sadness in the eyes crying for, and who is the concern in the bottom of my heart persistent for?

I write with my left hand, but I can't draw a blueprint for happiness; I wrote love in my right hand, but I couldn't write. Everything turned out to be fruitless. There is no beginning and no end, just like a passer-by in life. After meeting, you turn left and I turn right, and then I run counter to happiness. From then on, there is no intersection.

Spring flowers are brilliant, summer nights are starry, autumn moon is bright, and winter snow is cold and cheerless. After the changes of four seasons, I still can't jump out of the troubles of love entanglements. Endless sadness has passed, and there are endless distractions. Is the fate endless, or is the heart still there?

A mouthful of fragrant hot coffee is not as memorable as expected. It is a mixed taste of life, bitter and comfortable in my heart, sweet and fleeting, and then endless regret and loss. The tea is not cold, people have dispersed, the night is still young and the heart is cold, lonely as dusk, lonely and confused in the dense fog. Swinging with the wind seems to have no choice but to drift with the flow. By the way, where is the road and where should I go?

Flowers bloom for a thousand years, flowers fall for a thousand years, flowers bloom and leaves fall, and leaves grow without flowers. It is called the other shore, but it can only be separated from the other shore forever, endless waiting, endless loneliness, and loneliness of life! Sometimes, persistence is also a kind of harm. The promises made and the debts owed are just a dream. When the dream comes to an end, people are scattered, while some people wander in the same place and bury their youth!

A rain, wet all night, gaunt the hearts of two people, you don't sleep, I don't sleep, bit by bit, melancholy until dawn. A person looks forward to the coming of spring on a winter night. Is it hope when the cold wind of dawn blows into a ray of bright morning light? Maybe it's just the beginning of disappointment, because the sunset will take away the last sunset. Cycle after cycle, day after day, one day, I finally found that I have been drawing circles of different sizes, circles with no starting point and no ending point, and those limited non-circular circles are called life trajectories!

Suddenly I feel that life is so thin, as if there are only large and small circles left, such as the rings of years. And a few memories have disappeared in the wind and frost, leaving an incomplete broken walls that can never be pieced together.

The heart is higher than the sky, but the life is doomed. I can't cut or climb the mountain. Let me face the happiness in the distance! Smear the brush in your hand, but you can't hook tomorrow's journey. Lighting a lamp can't drive away the heavy haze.

Writing with your left hand and writing with your right hand may be doomed to be a beautiful mistake!

Chapter 2: Acacia is endless, only because of the bright moon.

At night, the bright moon hangs high. Reading the poems about the moon sung by poets for thousands of years, like drinking a glass of wine, I am drunk. The door of memory was left unlocked, and I walked in with a little drunkenness to pick up the past. In the four seasons of life, how many people have come, been, gathered and dispersed; How many times, full moon, missing, missing, last contact. Moonlight, like water, accompanied by the sound of the piano, flows through the mountains and valleys, nourishing the dry heart. Fold a beam of moonlight, weave the wings of acacia and fly in the sky of memory.

On the moonlit night in spring, a acacia tree is flourishing and in full bloom; Who are the teenagers waiting for under the tree? The moon is slanting to the west, lengthening the waiting figure, and finally no one comes. The breeze blew, bending the moonlight and blowing off the petals on the ground. Who picked up the petals and buried them under the tree and named them "Love Tomb"?

The love of teenagers is full of innocence, and finally it is too green and fruitless, and the petals fall, which is the boy's broken heart; Years have changed, and only the moon has left a pure collection in the deepest part of memory. Whenever the moon rises, I will think of the flowering tree and the love grave under it. Did a beautiful girl find a broken heart under the tree? A moment that should last forever has come and gone before I know it!

The moonlight on a summer night is the most beautiful, "the cool moon and the bright flowers bloom"; In the vast sea of people, looking for the other half of life, the beauty in the moonlight wore Hanfu, but when she looked back, she had disappeared in the dim light. An encounter with a small bridge and flowing water is doomed to miss this life. The fingertips still have a warm fragrance, but in a blink of an eye, the heart has gone. On a moonlit night, I send you a short message of lovesickness and say to myself, "May people live for a long time and have a beautiful scenery thousands of miles away."

Moonlight washes away the impetuousness of the world and illuminates the way home for the true feelings. People far away are safe! The past is the content! Experienced, no regrets! Late autumn night, the moonlight gently sprinkled in the besieged city of life, warm and romantic; The beautiful scenery outside the city is also dotted with moonlight, which is fascinating; When you step into the besieged city, don't be sentimental, lean on the moonlight and bring warmth, and life is still beautiful. I once met outside the city, folded into memories, wrote down my blessings, and buried them in the depths of the moonlight. When the moon is full, I occasionally think of them as beautiful memories and send them to the distance.

"Where to synthesize sorrow, autumn will keep people's hearts", don't treat parting as wine, and drink all the sorrow and troubles; Life is in autumn, and this feeling is indifferent. In the middle of the night, I drink tea alone and listen to Zheng music.

At this time, it is a winter night; The moon has climbed the mountain ridge in the east, and the cold wind can't freeze the flowing moonlight, nor can it freeze my emotional flow. The moon is still bright. It used to be the moon. I'm not who I used to be. I pulled back the lovesickness released by moonlight, put it back in the depths of my memory, and carefully sealed it. Maybe in the next moonlit night, I didn't intend to open it, but a prime minister thought of guzheng music lingering in my ears, teaching me to look down on life and laugh at the world of mortals.

Thank the bright moon, I think you can't finish thinking, just because of you.

Chapter Three: Love for Father

Once upon a time, I often fantasized about your youth. At that time, you were taken care of by your parents and brothers and sisters. Have unlimited fun playing in youth. At that time, I was so naive and had the sweetest smile in my life. At that time, you should have a moist face, firm skin, no wrinkles and warm and thick palms. However, our arrival has disrupted the pace of your life.

You are like that green grassland, which brings us a paradise of laughter; You are like the most primitive boiled water, nourishing our lives; You are like a gentle breeze and drizzle, full of our growing journey. If, if time can be forgotten, then at least you should not forget your selfless dedication, in my life, in my life, dotted with such beautiful and strange days and nights.

If, if time can be forgotten, how can I be grateful, how can I understand and repay your efforts at such a glorious age? If time is a silent weapon, I think, I want to laugh with you, cry with you and make fun with you on the journey that can seize your life, because of happiness.

Once a year, it adds the imprint of years, and birthday is a special day. However, we are always stingy with our emotional expression, especially to the people we love. I am an emotional seeker, but I forgot to answer. Let the years erode your face and carve deep lines.

Father, thank you for your indulgence and love, and thank you for always forgiving my daughter, this long wayward. There is a saying in the poem: parents are here and don't travel far. As a restless and noisy person, I can't control my dream of traveling far away. However, I came back after all, because the years are evergreen and people will get old. Because I am afraid, I am afraid of the pain that my son wants to raise and not kiss, because I am afraid that the old man will die.

Father, I want to tell you? -Now, my palms are big! I can also be your arm. Since time has stopped me from walking through your youth, please let me accompany you through your twilight years.

Chapter four: Let the poetry of drifting snow live in my heart.

Walking into my hometown after a long separation, my Jiangnan is already covered with snow. ...

This snow fog sprays a misty shadow, forming a snowy area in the south of the Yangtze River, dancing in the soft cold wind. The enchanting snow smoke on the pool surface in the distance rises gradually, intertwined with the kitchen smoke, and the country cottages are all wrapped in white, with snow-covered outer slope bridges, deep hutong courtyards, blue brick colored glass, antique ancient wells, and schools in quiet places swaying poetically in the cold.

Step on the land of my hometown, gently hold you in my arms, shake a piece of snow in my hometown and let the soft snow hit my face. In this cold and snowy time, quietly listen to birds singing in the tree nest, singing winter songs; Listen to an ensemble in the cold wind and snowfield, weave the poetry of snowflakes into acacia, listen to the music of soft snow falling on the ground, listen to the lingering fine snow, and dance with the flying catkins, so that snowflakes are frivolous in the eyebrows and affectionate in Jiangnan. The snow in Jiangnan is very thick and charming, and the cold winter is full of poetry.

The snow in the south of the Yangtze River quietly tells stories and is full of poetry. Snowflakes dance with thoughts and gently float across Waipo Bridge. The old osmanthus tree in front of my house is white, full of faint snowy winter rhyme, floating overhead, so beautiful, so white, lingering like a dream, and gradually ... charming once green rice fields and lush fields. Flour and snow are falling in succession, and dense pine branches are swaying in the snow shadow. This snowflake is full of affection and gradually spreads out, and the memory of love is swaying in the air. In the cold winter, I deeply love you, feel the elegance and affection of snowflakes, and listen to Cher's talk in the cold wind. Snowflakes are thick and swaying in the sky, just like a group of fairies coming down to earth, covering empty villages, farmhouses and villages with a thin layer of white gauze. This snow is full of condensation and massiness.

Hold a wisp of snowflake in your palm, let the warmth melt gradually and warm your mood. I can't wait to see the tenderness of the snow in the south of the Yangtze River. Snowflakes are filled with the aroma of wintersweet, drifting thousands of miles. This plum tree was wrapped in snow and stood poetically in the cold winter. The poetry of flowers and snow gradually swayed into fluttering tidbits. This love, in the snowy winter, listening to the singing of the cold wind, makes snow poems flow in the south of the Yangtze River in winter and into the blood of children. Let the poetry of snow melt into my heart.

Walking in the romantic snow, let your thoughts flow, cut a section of edelweiss in the cold acacia, let the boundless snow scene decorate the charming Jiangnan, and the snowflakes linger gently with time. Gently pinch the snowflake at your fingertips, let your thoughts melt and hide them in the snow-covered bridge; Dancing in the snow with acacia in my arms, leading you away, talking and laughing ... Let the flying snowflakes splash ink into pure white silk paintings, and blend the smile of Jiangnan into the original paintings; Smelling the fragrance of cold plum, walking in the snow, weaving the missing petals into the path of snow, and the pale yellow petals gradually soften in the snow.

I walked in the snow scene with emotion. The mountains in the distance are covered with white, and the town is surrounded by Jing Ya. Shops, shops, pubs, photo studios and alleys come and go. A soft snow soaked the antique town, and the leisurely lake was silvery white. This notice is presented in groups. In this dream, I searched her for thousands of Baidu, and lovers embraced in the soft snow, as warm as oranges. Stop on the snowy road, watch a feast of flying snowflakes accompanied by Mei Er, let the emotional cotton snow dye the white temples, let the memories stop, let the snowflakes bloom quietly in Jiangnan, and the wintersweet bloom brilliantly.

That night, the north wind rustled and the snow fell on the windowsill. The pink in the hut is soft, melting the snow and boiling it. Under the soothing music of ecstasy, I made a pot of cappuccino, which filled the cabin with the aroma of coffee. That night, the cold wind started again, and the snow all over the sky gently dyed the sky white, which made this cold snowy night. The yard in front of my house was covered with fluffy snow. That night, I looked at the thick snowflakes outside the window. I made great efforts on the shore to turn the snow scene in the south of the Yangtze River into a picture scroll, and let the poetry of drifting snow live in my heart.

Chapter 5: There are always excuses for burying dreams.

My dream is ...!

I know I had a dream, too. From the first time I stood on the platform of the primary school classroom, I emphasized his existence in my heart countless times! It was not until later that I began to show off countless dreams that I completely lost my dreams.

I lay in bed, staring blankly at the chandelier on the ceiling, and the pale halo circled round and round. The indifferent light and shadow stung my eyes that I hadn't blinked for a long time in a casual moment, and that moment was blurred, which made me clearly see the dirty hidden inside for a long time! The long-lost fragility rotates, folds, crisscrosses and twists with the diffused aperture on the ceiling, tearing up all the strength and gnawing away all the camouflage.

I just graduated from college, and my work was not smooth, which killed my passionate passion a little. It seems that only by violating the present life can we truly understand life. Life is everything you can think of, and all your metaphors are always right. Because life is too strong, the strongest is always too lazy to refute you, or even let you decorate it. Finally, a person can only end up with his own interesting words. I excused myself for the ink that I accidentally dropped between pen and ink, and denied my dream of laughing and glaring at the sea.

Everyone once dreamed of trying to make a good sentence, writing with a bald pen, shaking your wrist and spilling juice! Ten years of prosperous old dreams degenerated into a sigh between the eyebrows overnight, while stubborn lips are still endlessly denying the fact of loneliness, and the eight-toothed smile has vividly outlined the so-called indifference! And I will suddenly be silent or even cry in a quiet moment!

Everyone's life has such a hard shell, which contains resistance, maintenance, dreams and hidden sadness. Carve the scenery at the front desk with vicissitudes or filth. We may never deceive others, but one person is pulling a lie and making up many excuses to deceive himself.

Everyone's life is undeniable, and we have to argue irrationally. We have endless reasons and excuses, and we can even walk away at any time. Those excuses for self-deception, those excuses, like the cigarette between my left hand, burn all my strength and all our self-deception anxiety! We all set up dreams, and finally we are swallowed up by life between our impossibility or necessity, but we never seem to be wrong. We always stick to our statement and never give up. The reason why we don't work hard is because we don't have time, opportunities or anything else. Anyway, we always have legitimate reasons to tell our helplessness and piece together a "moving" story to move our inaction. We always have enough excuses to pay homage to those dreams that died under our "helplessness"! Writing here, I seem to feel that I understand a lot of truth and am preparing to be glad that I have lost my way. However, the ferocious words on the screen suddenly and mercilessly tore up what little pride I had left. It turns out that I want to show my weaknesses to everyone, and it should be reasonable to convince myself to "take it for granted".

Maybe, I was wrong from the beginning. Maybe it's enough to have a dream and keep it in your heart. Maybe if you want to succeed, just work hard! The light overhead is still on, repetitive, monotonous, boring but so vivid, just like the oath we made on the podium ... (After graduating from college, I entered the society at a loss, but I can't remember the passion of fantasizing about the legendary swordsman, but the reality taught me to be a man a little bit, and I was unwilling and disappointed)

Chapter 6: The heart falls with the fallen leaves.

I want to see the yellow leaves in late autumn. Although, because I am afraid of eating, I am busy in the noisy and impetuous city, running in the rushing sea of people, drowning in the utilitarian world, and I can't see or feel the sight of yellow leaves flying; However, as a child with roots and soul in the mountains, it seems that the close-ups of these fragments engraved in my mind can appear at any time.

The leaves fell and fell to the ground. Although it has changed color, it is still a complete piece. Stepping on it, there is a rustle of cables; But my heart has fallen and broken with the fallen leaves, and I can't find any trace. That kind of sadness and depression that has a head and no tail makes my heart die, and it disappears with the rustling autumn wind.

Maybe everyone has a period of confusion, why do I live, for whom, and what's the point of living. In the struggle and depression, what I feel seems to be only the body that is still a living body, and countless souls that make me feel the suffering and struggle of the sinister world.

Autumn is the season when everything turns from prosperity to decline, and frustrated and wandering literati always have a lot of feelings. Scholars are strange and affectionate animals. The extremes of things must be reversed, and the extremes of things must be reversed. Hey!

Autumn is always for sentimental literati. Song Yudao: "Sad autumn anger! Bleak grass and trees are dying. If you are far away, you will travel far, and if you are near, you will return to the mountains. " Cao Pi said, "The autumn wind is bleak, the weather is cold, and the vegetation is exposed to frost." Li Shangyin: "Autumn frost flies late, leaving dry lotus to listen to the rain." Xin Qiji said: "In the world, whenever Qiu Lai is discussed, there is no exception." Perhaps this autumn scenery, with trees singing in autumn and mountains in cool colors, always makes people feel melancholy. The following poems about autumn seem to be difficult to find sentences about people's good mood. Alas, people are always strange animals!

Autumn rain-tall buildings long for dusk, and there is rustling rain on the leaves of plane trees.

Autumn wind-the autumn wind is curling, and Dongting waves are under the leaves.

Autumn sound-I didn't feel the dream of spring grass in the pond, but the leaves in front of the steps had autumn sound.

Autumn color-the rain invades the urn and the new moss is green, and the autumn leaves are red when entering the cross forest.

Autumn leaves-the wind blows bamboo in the middle of the night, and all the leaves are hate.

Autumn moon-the moonlight is flooded and the emptiness echoes.

Wan Li, an old friend, has never been heard from, and plans to ask Jiangtou to break the flood.

Autumn sorrow-don't say that you are always idle, and write clear sorrow every night.

Autumn bosom-a fleeting sigh went out, and I saw konoha flying by the lake.

The smell of autumn-crickets only know that autumn is early and there is a lot of rain on the banana.

In this autumn, the mood is always foggy and our inseparable friends are dim, depressed and dirty. Less rain, more dust, less wind, more tail gas and so on. It can form smog. But when it rains, the smog will be washed away; But where is the storm in my heart? Only a few old tears, a few vicissitudes of life sighs, and a few lonely walks.

People are always lonely and sad for no reason. Some may be born, unavoidable and unavoidable. As long as you are alive, you may be dead. This made me understand the pain that Sister Xianglin in Lu Xun's works wanted to live but could not live, and wanted to die but did not dare to die.

Job burnout, mental fatigue and depression are always unavoidable. Try to cheer yourself up, but many unpleasant things are hard to cheer yourself up. Although happiness is my own psychological feeling, the intensity of external interference is still very strong. Such as harsh noise, dirty environment, work pressure and so on. People cannot live in a vacuum.

The moon is the sign of the road, and life is the bitterness of life. In any case, life will always leave some unpleasant marks, which are unforgettable and hard to erase. Even if it is smoothed, it will be scarred.

Everyone has troubles. A primary school student wrote in an essay entitled "Tangle": I broke up with Zhong and am now waiting for Guo Qingjie, but in fact I like Fang very much and miss Fang very much, but her sister Fang Shujia is more beautiful, and I like her more; But my heart has always loved walking on snow, and I want to be with her forever. Of course, her sister is still working.

But these fantasies are still fantasies and cannot be realized in reality. Even simple pupils are entangled, think about how much courage and perseverance we need to live! composition

Chapter 7: Dreams don't dream, but the past has become a common practice.

The stormy years have passed. Silent night, memories linger in my heart like a title page that can't be turned over, rehearsing stories that were once melancholy because of love. Memory seems to be another wisp of light smoke, floating in my mind, without any intention of leaving, for a long time.

Time flies, days are like water, and dreams are empty. Looking back at the vast sky, leaving only my lonely back. No one knows right or wrong, and I'm stubborn and stupid. Bury deep regrets, carry heavy memories, and walk through life alone.

Where did you end up? Every time you think of the end of the world, you are alone, and your heart is full of sadness. How many stories and feelings, with the days, were buried in the depths of memory and melted into words.

Is it cloud, fog or dream? Smoke, looking back, the dream is not a dream, the past has been blowing in the wind. It is said that life is like a dream, and I have treated life with a dream attitude, but I can never make up for my regrets. The painful days are far away from me, but the painful heart is hard to heal. After reading those memories mixed with your tears, I clearly feel that it is a distance from the horizon.

I paid a heavy price, but there was no result. Now, my heart is as calm as water. With sadness, I look back, and only myself can look back. Sometimes there is always a faint sadness in my heart, because you never know that there is another me who loves you deeply in the campus where you are about to leave. You are a distant place that I can never reach, and I am the past that you have long forgotten.

In the silent season, language loses its color: in the lonely years, waiting to forget the oath. After so many vigorous stories, you are still you, I am still me. In all your beautiful brilliance, my own sky is still only melancholy, and my own position is only loneliness and sadness.

I know that you will eventually create another story with your beauty, and I am just an accident in your youth diary. I know that I will eventually learn to get used to it and let it go, and then tell you that I admit that I am just an accident in your memory. But does it matter whether I can do it or not? Or wait in constant pain and pursue your memory in the rain?

The west wind is messy, flowers fall on the moon, and at midnight, who will worry about sending the moon, who will never forget the past and never regret it. Time, like yellow leaves in the wind, flies over the treetops, and dancing carves the memory into a devastated late autumn, swaying in the shadow of the season. After that gray and foggy day, I found that the trajectory of youth has been unrecognizable, and everything has gone without a trace. It's just that the season is still long Since you left, the sky is destined to be full of rainy season, and my heart is destined to drift without the other side. I let my tears flow incisively and vividly in the windless rain, waiting for the disappearance of the rainy season in sadness.

Today, it began to rain in Mao Mao again. When I walked in the rain again and got wet by the mixed feeling of love and pain, the rain man and tears wet my cheeks and whispered that I couldn't stand it. A long list of helpless and sad traces were added to my memory screen out of thin air! Looking back again, sad eyes blurred, dreams are not dreams, and the past has become commonplace. Blowing in the wind's past, may the wind take it away and smooth those bottomless traces!

Chapter 8: Reverse memory.

When you want to leave, have you thought about the future? The sun is still so bright and the sky is still so blue. For future efforts? Do you ever feel tired? Have you ever cried? Listen to the sound of the sea. The sound of waves on every floor. You can never wash your feet if you wash them again and again. Just need some help, sometimes happy and sometimes sad, people have joys and sorrows, and the moon is full of rain and shine.

There was an interesting winter in Ruijin. I went to the mountains and rivers, took out my pen and colored my life. I also fell asleep unconsciously when the scarecrow was blowing cold wind and singing the song of youth. Wake up and act as a funny joke. Whenever I am in a bad mood, I entertain myself in my heart. Experienced too many failures and successes.

In practice, when you are in the youth stage, sometimes it will be better to let go. I regret it, and sometimes I feel bad. Then I want to walk around and forget all the bad things under the excuse of distraction. Then eat and drink. The most terrible thing is that I don't want to see it again. This may be a cowardice in life. Many people will feel that something has been escaping and dare not face the fear of being hurt again. But it cried the most after humans disappeared. Is it? I've had the same experience. A clock without a circle can't turn without anything. The failure of life is nothing more than this. Is there anyone who is smart and plays dumb in front of others? This is the mentality of life. Sometimes it can be a waste. And sometimes not singing is a blockbuster! This is the key moment for people who hide their strength; Show yourself.

For some things, such people can put everything down first. Make up your mind to solve the dilemma. Time flies, and it also brings happiness and sadness to too many people. This feeling is unforgettable. Has anyone ever reversed it? Or give your heart to time and take it to a lonely space forever. Sometimes when I dream, I hope I will never grow up or stay in my childhood. Everyone has a dream in childhood, "grow up quickly!" " Grow up quickly! "But when I was in my twenties, I dreamed that" I wish I could go back to my childhood, be carefree, have no worries or too many worries, and play happily "... Alas, people are of course contradictory creatures. The biggest difference between us and animals is that we can think and dream. The paper plane of my childhood is now back in my hands.

During this time, I listened to my own story and wrote down all the truth about life. Career is the way of philosophy. Without the earth, the sun would still turn. This is the law of all things. When you walk through every landscape, you have a feeling of flying. Looking for your feelings every day; Take this feeling as your own love. But some scenery has never stayed for itself, and has never loved for its own style, which makes time kill its patience. Well, there is no morality, you shouldn't do it for yourself ... don't shout that I don't deserve it in the rain for some inexplicable rotating meaning that you don't want to lose. Time makes everything obsolete. It is impossible to turn a person's mind into helplessness, right?

When I get up every day, I have thought about what I should do today, what I should do meaningfully, and whether I have left any regrets for what I did yesterday. When the feeling is repeated, filter it in your mind. When I walked away, I didn't leave any regrets, only a wisp of past clouds; Put everything behind you and have a big game. Sometimes time comes slowly; Or what you are expecting, is that time is in your mind. Every scene I walked through left nothing behind, but I left a memory. Of course, memory is only the most painful thing for people. Memory has changed for me. When I walked under the most beautiful birch tree, I remembered that "flowers fall and pity each other, and people fall and feel sad."

Look at that tree, the ever-changing ecological law every day. Year after year, its change is only slow, it never leaves too much harm to its growth, and it strives to become stronger. It says it forgets that the changes of the times are only inevitable. Does the wind bring desolation or unforgettable feelings? The lonely figure on the path, next to me and the birch leaves swaying in the wind, makes this beautiful picture even more lonely, standing there looking at the slightly changed trees and picking off a yellow leaf. It is the saddest season, whether it is weather, mood or thoughts. When I entered the most unforgettable day of change, I remembered the impermanence of life. The ups and downs are how brilliant others are.

If you can't help it anymore, it's yourself. Unique! As long as you try to be the most beautiful yourself, your life is enough. Deep flowers laugh in spring, and thick leaves are sad in autumn. Jathyapple's dream is full of spring love. The sufferings experienced by young people will always be forgotten by the elderly. If you have to express it, think about what to say first. As long as you say the right thing at a critical moment, don't brag about your rationality, let alone feel that you know more than others. The key to cultivating the mind is to blame yourself and believe that you are the most ignorant person. I always believe that there is a kind of fate, which does not necessarily meet, and it is warm apart from the horizon. As long as life is well taken care of, this fate is as precious as life. Well, that's what I'm talking about.