Composition: Past events

Why did you stop when you saw a similar figure in the crowd? Why can't you help looking back when you hear a similar sound in the noise? Why do we hum lonely songs or see our own shadows every time we walk together? Why even dreams are depicted in the past! Come and go in a hurry, those friends will think of them when they are lonely, when they are happy, when they are frustrated ... I will cherish those memories, those thoughts and those feelings in the future, which are the warmth of my life! Recalling high school life, the first thing that comes to mind is campus! On the eve of graduation, I thought of being together in front of the gardenia of rice tea … as a result … the gardenia of the second year was in bud after I insisted on it for half a month, and I didn't want to bloom! Maybe you really can't say goodbye. Is this your alma mater's intention? ! The garden full of spring, the refreshing playground in summer, the fallen leaves in autumn, and the bright and vibrant evergreen trees covered with snow in winter ... I remember the campus after the snow that year: the students ran to have a snowball fight, the Long March in the snow, regardless of the ice in their hair to meet the first snow, blowing their ideals in the snow. I always think of the beautiful scenery in autumn. Let me wander around. Metasequoia glyptostroboides in late autumn will suddenly change from charming rose red to golden orange red and then to dark brown in the afterglow of sunset at 5 pm ... In early winter, with the wind, brown leaves fall all over the avenue, and you will feel a thick layer of softness when you step on it. Romantic and warm.

I always thought that I would leave something, something would be immortal, and those memories were worth cherishing. As a result, I only know the ideal engraved on the table. After self-study in the evening, I was riding a bicycle with a backpack on my back, and was pulled by a street lamp for a long time. I walked peacefully all the way. What kind of person am I? I have been asking myself, asking others, as if I care, maybe I really care. I'm paranoid because I have passion, I'm casual because I'm out of reach, I'm perverse because I don't want to be silent, and I'm naive because I don't want to be too realistic. ...

Some people say. You can't go back to that summer with today's autumn. You can't hide another person's attachment by giving up. You can't try to find the coincidence of two flavors.

Miss. It is the transformation of autumn leaves from prosperity to barren, then to prosperity and then to barren.

Time always takes everything away. Including those self-righteous immortals.

I thought I would vent my sadness at will. Sorrow will dry up. But I don't know, I just let myself sink deeper and deeper in the bottomless whirlpool. There is no redemption.

When you are sad. Tears flow unconsciously. When you are happy. The whole face is filled with infinite smiles. These pure and beautiful beginnings. Why race against time? No trace.

I've been thinking. Why should we continue like this? Play word games endlessly. Is this an open diary or an admirable history? Life passed in a hurry. Can I remember everything?

Whether it's pain or disease. Whether happiness is perfect. It's just ... I'm getting more and more uncertain. Less and less confident. One day. Will I abandon everything? Start over in an empty world.

Just ... maybe when all the time is gone. All these yellowed fonts still have the warmth that I wrote these words in a certain season.

I think. Most writers are lonely at heart. Most people who read words are lonely inside.

It seems destined to escape. People who have had memories. Destined to use words to analyze the heart. Destined to go hand in hand with words.

The language began to collapse. The smile began to fade. Except dissecting the heart in front of the screen in the dark. I have no choice. I don't want to think, but I like to remember. I remember. That's all. The ancient past.

I sublimate and freeze my emotions through the words at my fingertips. Warm. Sadness. Or broken. Paranoia

It turns out that memory always stays at the best time and deepens repeatedly.

In memory

Except for this invisible sadness. The rest is happiness.