An essay on discontent.

Grievance is a Chinese character, and the pinyin is wěi qu (softly). It means to be treated unfairly and feel sad. I have carefully arranged the composition about grievances for you, hoping to give you reference.

Article 1: My eyes are like a camera. I always take pictures of things around me and imprint them firmly in my mind. However, with the passage of time, many scenes have been forgotten by me, and only one thing is still fresh in my mind.

It was noon on a Sunday and my father went to work overtime again. My mother said to me, "My mother went to buy food. You are playing computer at home alone, and there is a "Huo Ying" USB flash drive in the study. Freeze! " "hmm." I readily agreed. After my mother left, I rushed into the computer room and played computer with great interest. ...

About forty minutes later, my mother came back. I turned off my computer and went back to my dormitory to watch World War II. Just when I was in a good mood, my mother stormed into the bedroom: "Li, what did you do while I was away?" "Play computer!" I continued to watch the storm of World War II and didn't notice my mother's face. My mother stepped forward, grabbed the storm of World War II, threw it on the bed and said, "Don't be stupid, you moved my flash drive, so dishonest, really!" " As I spoke, I pointed to the study and looked down my mother's finger. Sure enough, there is nothing. "Really ..." Before I finished, two slaps fell on my face and I was in tears. At this time, my father came back, asked why, smiled and said to my mother, "Didn't you put the U disk in your handbag?" Mom quickly opened the handbag, and when she saw it, it was a USB flash drive! I stopped crying and said, "Who is dishonest?" My mother said at once: "I'm sorry" about the wronged composition.

In our life, there are always some things that make us feel wronged. Of course, me too. Today, I will tell you about it.

My family used to have a lovely kitten named "Nuo Nuo". It is considerate, but sometimes it is naughty.

It was a Sunday morning. Mom and dad are not at home. I do my homework at home alone. Nuo Nuo the kitten is playing alone. Nuo Nuo rolled on the ground for a while, ran and jumped on the cupboard, and jumped on the stool for a while. .......

Suddenly, there was a bang in my ear. "What's the matter?" I asked myself. The sound came from the living room. I hurried to the living room and found that the vase on the cabinet was broken and there were many pieces on the ground. I can't help but be frightened by what I see. I immediately reacted that Nuo Nuo accidentally broke the vase. I looked around, only Nuo Nuo was hiding in a corner, huddled up, as if he didn't want me to see it. I went over to Nuo Nuo and said. "Nuo Nuo" seemed to understand my words and nodded. Only then did I realize that the worst was yet to come.

At about eleven o'clock, mom and dad came back. As soon as my father saw the fragments of the vase, he came up to me and said to me seriously, "How did you break the vase?" He began to punish me when he said it. I was so scared. Fortunately, my mother protected me.

Today, my parents still think that I broke the vase. I wanted to tell them clearly, but I never dared. I wrote this composition today and told them clearly.

This is what I feel wronged. I tell you, you can talk about your grievances.

Essay 3: wronged one sheep, two sheep ..., 999, 1000. "Why can't I sleep after counting to 1000?" The original grievances are stored in my mind.

On this dark night, I feel sad when I think about what happened today. Here's the thing: an essay about dissatisfaction.

Today, my brother slug came to my house. He knew all the interesting things were in my room, so he sneaked into my bedroom while I was watching TV. I was watching TV when I heard a boy ask, "Brother, what is this?" As soon as I heard it, the sound came from my bedroom. I flew to the bedroom at lightning speed and pushed open the door, which startled me: my nose was everywhere, my bed was full of footprints, my drawers were all emptied, and things were everywhere in the room. As a result, "pa" is a slap in the face. "Wow," the liquid flowing from his eyes was mixed with his usual "jade column". Suddenly, my mother came and slapped me. Before I could refute it, my mother's long speech began again, which reminded me of a common hidden weapons in martial arts novels-a pear flower needle in a rainstorm. I thought about it and tears welled up in my eyes.

Why? Why should I be beaten? This is obviously his fault. Besides, he is only one year younger than me! I am so wronged. I am more wronged than Dou E. It's getting dark, and the moon seems to be laughing at me. I really hate my mother, especially slugs, because it's all his fault.

Wronged in my heart, stored;

Feel wronged and wandering in my heart;

I was wronged in my heart and passed by in a flash.

However, I believe that one day, someone will apologize to me and the grievances will disappear. I hope: a composition about grievances.

The world will never be wronged.

Chapter four: The composition about grievances returned to my seat, and tears were already swirling in my eyes. I stubbornly stopped my tears and tried not to let them fall.

I still remember what just happened. These photos have been deeply imprinted in my mind. Although it's only five minutes, it seems like a long time. These five minutes are so long, so long. ...

"Teacher, my paper vase is ready." "Oh, let me think." I showed the vase to the teacher, and the students standing beside me couldn't believe it: the composition about injustice was "so beautiful!" " "The teacher took the vase and looked at it. His words came as a bolt from the blue: "Hum, you brought me a real vase to work. I want a paper vase! "But this is a paper vase." My voice dropped, and I felt it tremble myself. I picked up the vase carefully and showed it to the teacher. Not only did the teacher read it without a word of praise, but he also asked coldly, "Did you make this vase yourself?" Hey! "I feel a little dizzy, if it is so cold! I whispered, "I put the paper inside, but my father was outside helping me make powder ... I was halfway through, and the teacher said in a reproachful tone," Hum, my father did it! What's the use? Have you wrapped the paper in it? " The teacher still looked at me with suspicion. I can't help but wonder how spicy this look is, which makes people feel so painful and astringent ... It is this suspicious look that kills all my time and energy, and really feels the taste of "trying to burst like a soap bubble".

"ta-"A drop of liquid fell on my palm. Tears? It's too hot. Hot and bitter.

Staring at the vase on the table, it looks the same, but I have no feeling at all. I hate it, I hate it. ...

Chapter 5: The Mistakes of Mother Earth Hello, my name is Dida, and I am a planet covered with thin blue gauze. I used to be carefree, and people who glow on the eight planets envy my beauty, but now?

Humans hacked my tree children and made my animal children homeless. Humans pretended that animal children were homeless and killed them to eat their meat.

They also invented something called a car, which excreted a pungent and unpleasant thing from the back. It's nothing. The most unbearable thing is that their smoke from the chimney not only makes me more and more ugly, but also destroys my protector, the ozone layer.

Also, they are like littering in a river, dumping dirty water, discharging a lot of chemicals into the sea, and blackening my water-blue veil.

I want to cry when I think about it, but I feel much better after saying so many words. Goodbye.

On the road of growth, no one will be smooth sailing, everyone will encounter some difficulties and shed a lot of tears. But the taste of these tears is different, sometimes sweet and sometimes bitter. ...

I remember when I was in the fourth grade, my father bought a beautiful pen. I looked at envy, quietly took it over and looked at it and touched it. After reading it, I quietly put the pen back, but my father found it. He hid the pen. But I can't hide it from my eyes. I know where it is hidden. But a few days later, when I went to see it again, it was gone. It happened that my father was not here, so I searched everything, and finally I found the pen. I held it, and I really felt a little fondle admiringly, but it was my father's, so I had to reluctantly give up what I wanted and put it back.

That night, something unexpected happened. After dinner, my father said to me angrily, "Jingjing, how did you break your new pen?" Who told you to touch my pen? " As soon as I spoke, a slap in the face fell on my face, and my face suddenly became irritable and painful. I just stood there, feeling puzzled and even more wronged. Tears of disappointment have covered my face. In the evening, I lay in bed thinking about that day. I was fine when I took the pen. When I put it back, there was no one around! What happened? The more I think about it, the more I feel something is wrong. Oh, great! My brother is at the door. Unless my brother saw me take the pen, and after I put it back, he took it again? Yes, it must be.

The next day, I told my father my thoughts. My dad went to ask my brother, and my brother muttered, "I didn't take it." I don't know where the pen is. " Hearing this, my father said to me angrily, "You obviously broke something, and you still blame others. Is this more like it? " ..... "What else did Dad say? I didn't listen to a word. I feel so wronged that my tears can't stop flowing downwards.

After many days, I forgot about it long ago, but suddenly my father apologized to me and said that he had wronged me that day, and that the pen was really broken by my brother. Hearing the news, I don't know how to make my tears flow down again.

Composition 7: Wrong composition Life is full of sour, sweet, bitter and spicy flavors, and I have experienced different flavors. Take last Monday's incident of being wronged for playing computer, I still feel very wronged.

It was a Monday night, and in the homework assigned by the teacher, we were asked to check the information online. After finishing my homework, I turned on the computer to check the information. No sooner had I checked the information than I heard a knock at the door. Grandpa opened the door. It turns out that dad has come back. He went to the study and saw me sitting in a chair using a computer. He thinks I'm playing computer games. Without saying anything, my father dragged me from the computer chair to the sofa like an eagle catching a chicken. I looked up and saw that my father was furious and flew into a rage. Dad said: "Today is not Sunday, what computer are you playing!" " "I tried to explain that I was looking up information, not playing computer, but my father wouldn't let me explain at all. He gave me a good lecture and said I couldn't surf the Internet from Monday to Friday. I looked at my father's angry face and clenched my fist in my hand. But I can't explain it clearly, plus my father's firm language, he has no room for me to explain. I don't think I did anything wrong. Dad, why did you start attacking me indiscriminately without listening to my explanation? I shed tears of injustice. " I'm looking up information and finishing my homework assigned by my teacher, not playing computer games. Dad, why have you wronged me? Jumping into the Yellow River really won't wash off! "I couldn't hold back my anger any longer and shouted at my father with all my strength. With a loud bang, I closed the door and rushed into the bedroom, lying on the bed, tears falling silently. Alas, dad's messy way of handling things is really unbearable, and the more he thinks about it, the less interesting it is.

After a while, our hearts calmed down. I explained the reason to my father, who apologized to me.

Although I suffered a great injustice, I hid it in a corner of my heart. Chapter 8: Composition about grievances Unforgettable grievances

Everyone's life has joys and sorrows. They are like wonderful notes, playing wonderful life stories and enriching our lives. What I still remember is that I was wronged that time.

When I was a child, I was lively and naughty, which left a bad impression on people, so people always suspected that I was responsible for doing bad things. Over time, everyone got used to it.

One weekend, I was doing my homework carefully in my room. Frolicking and cheerful laughter came from time to time outside the house. Suddenly, there was a click, which cut the laughter, and then there was silence and silence. I didn't care much, so I continued to do my homework. Soon after, grandma ran into my room angrily and said in a questioning tone, "Did you break the flowerpot outside?" I was suddenly stunned and asked, "What flowerpot?" Grandma said, "Come with me." We hurried out of the room and came to the door. I can't help being surprised. I saw the flowerpot carved with Qinglong broken into several pieces, scattered on the ground, fertile soil overturned on the ground, a beautiful osmanthus tree lying quietly on the ground, several budding flowers knocked down, and the ground was a mess. However, where have all the partners gone? The eyes shifted from the osmanthus tree to the neighbors, only to see the neighbors holding the fragments of the flowerpot regretfully, looking at the osmanthus tree and sighing helplessly in every way. Grandma took me to my neighbor and motioned me to apologize with her hand. I looked back at grandma's firm face. I know this is indisputable, but I silently bowed my head and felt very wronged. Grandma motioned to me again, and her kind face has become very serious at this time. For the wronged composition, I reluctantly said "I'm sorry" and then flew back to my room.

I didn't do it. Why should I apologize? Why did grandma insist that I did it and didn't investigate the whole story? Does a person's temporary habit determine the result of a person's life? I tried to hold back my tears of injustice. Sparrows chirping out of the window are singing melodies, and the wind is passing happily in my ear. It looks natural and unrestrained, but I am unaware of it.

It's been four years since this incident, and it's hard to know the truth, but I won't forget grandma's firm face that day, forever and ever. ...

Chapter 9: The composition on grievance has a harp in the distance, which is quiet and ethereal, and you can only say it to yourself.

I stood in front of the teacher and was silent for a long time. The mottled shadows of the trees shone on the ground through the sun, with a little yellow. "Still don't admit it?" I looked up at the teacher. "I didn't do it. I did nothing wrong. Why should I admit my mistake? " My attitude is very firm. "Well, you go home first and come back tomorrow when you think about it."

I picked up my schoolbag and walked to the door. Stop and look back. "Goodbye, teacher!"

I really don't blame the teacher. Maybe everyone will pass the buck, I think; Maybe I am really not good enough, I think; Maybe she is still young, I think.

If I didn't do it, I would never admit it. If I am innocent, I will never take responsibility.

But someone has to take responsibility.

So, the parents of the students came, and she said that the classmate called my name in his unconscious ear, and I gave him a push. I smiled.

So, the first teacher came, and she said, we boys are the ones who like fighting the most in our class. If you make a mistake, admit it. I smiled.

So, the second teacher came, and she said that a classmate said that she saw the classmate I pushed. So-and-so is the teacher's favorite girl. I smiled.

So the third teacher came. He said that boys should do things one by one, and he believed that I would turn over a new leaf. I smiled.

Twinkling stars are written in the sky, forming a brilliant galaxy. I flew around the galaxy that day, and my life was settled.

Someone has to take responsibility, and I won't be that person.

After several arguments, I never gave in. Finally, the classmate was diagnosed with meningitis.

After I visited him once out of courtesy, the teacher said in class that I had admitted my mistake to that classmate. But the truth is I didn't admit it.

I know, it's at this point, you can't go against what the teacher said. I know the dignity of teachers can't be lost. I understand, I understand.

The rain wet my eyes and I want to cry.

I'm still innocent, I believe.

I didn't tell the truth.

The teacher didn't tell the truth either.

That classmate didn't tell the truth.

I don't want to talk about it.

The teacher can't say.

That classmate dare not say.

People are doing it, and the sky is watching. God knows, I know, I know, the teacher knows, and so does that classmate. I'm innocent, but nobody said anything.

I don't blame anything, I just feel wronged.

Unconsciously, tears have been two lines.

Chapter 10: Growing up, I have experienced countless things about grievances in my composition. There are many things that have been lingering with the passage of time. But that grievance made me unforgettable for a long time.

It was two years ago, the school was going to hold a sports meeting, and the students were very happy. The teacher gave me an arduous task-organizing cheerleading. Every sports meeting, students always compete for this position. This time, the teacher actually asked me to be the teacher, which caused some students' jealousy.

I made a good plan to arrange personnel from class to class. Fortunately, everyone obeyed my orders, and my heart was filled with joy. I will succeed this time.

After school that day, I was walking alone on my way home, facing the cool breeze, and I saw the scene of the sports meeting: the cheerleaders shouted neat slogans and cheered for the athletes. Athletes are more handy and motivated. The wonderful performance of the cheerleaders and the excellent performance of the athletes attracted the praise of the teachers and the admiration of the students.

The sports meeting finally arrived, and of course I followed the plan. But who knows, they didn't wear neat school uniforms according to my regulations, and they didn't have the passion to shout. The whole class is in a mess. What's going on here? What the hell is going on here? I have been training for several days, so it should be no problem! I'm as anxious as a cat on hot bricks. I directed again, but they ignored me and continued to shout that messy slogan. They deliberately opposed me. I really can't think of any new ideas to deal with it, and I almost didn't cry.

After school, the teacher called me into the office and asked me what was going on with a straight face. I didn't answer, but I really didn't know how to answer. I just kept crying. The teacher accused me: "I thought it was the right choice to give you this task." But you really let me down? ""I-"I was about to explain, but the teacher interrupted me." Don't you have to explain? You made a fool of yourself this time. Do you know what other teachers say about our class? Do you know what the headmaster said about our class? They say our class has no organizational discipline at all! You will never be asked to do anything again? I can't trust you anymore! "The teacher's words, like thousands of steel needles, hurt my heart. And the teacher doesn't understand that it's not my fault! My self-esteem was greatly hurt! My whole person suddenly collapsed and my heart was broken. I rely on my own ability to gain the trust of my teachers, but why do so many students embarrass me just because of a little jealousy? The teacher criticized me indiscriminately again. I am wronged, I am innocent! I shouted in my mind.

I don't know how many tears I shed that day. Those are wronged tears, heartbreaking tears!