Being attached to writing and meeting you is my little lucky essay.

I forget when, where and where we met. Think carefully, only to find that the fate with it is so wonderful. I have to say that meeting it is the best little luck in my life!

When I was a child, my parents were forced to go out to work to make a living. They couldn't grow up with me and listened to my childish language. Therefore, compared with my peers, I have no right to snuggle up in my parents' arms and coquetry. I have been an insecure person since I was a child. At that time, I felt very scared every night, thought a lot and couldn't sleep. But no one will patiently tell stories to put me to sleep. When I think of an emotional place, I will be filled with emotion and cry silently. Over time, I began to become strong and brave!

At that time, there was no QQ, no circle of friends, no computer, no mobile phone and no high-tech products. At that time, communication was underdeveloped, and it was difficult to even call my parents. It is false to say that you don't miss your parents for such a sensitive and fragile child. When I have nothing to do, I will think, think a lot, and cry secretly.

To tell the truth, I didn't want to be wronged at first without my parents. I will envy children with parents and lament my loneliness. Gradually I got used to living in peace and friendship with myself.

It was on the road of a person's growth that I fell in love with words. At that time, I will tell all kinds of feelings to wordless words, use it to record my life, write down my thoughts about my distant parents, write down my fear and helplessness when I encounter difficulties, and also write down my complicated and subtle feelings and changeable emotions. I just feel good about speaking freely and won't betray me.

Later, in the third and fourth grades, we began to take writing classes. Accustomed to writing, I began to really have my own world. I didn't expect to be praised, unable to extricate myself from my own world, and willing to sink into the world of words. I just write blindly, write heartily and make up stories to describe my feelings. I began to stand out among my peers. My composition was praised by the teacher in public, read aloud as a model essay in class, and was envied by my classmates. I admit that I was very proud at that time, and I was secretly proud. But after exulting, I still wrote down the stories I knew and experienced with a normal heart, without any utilitarian color that I wanted to please.

But in junior high school, the "gift" that made me feel little happiness and excitement disappeared under the polishing of time, and there were more and more people around me, and I felt more and more inferior. I began to become uncertain and began to doubt the "different energy" I had before. Yes, when I entered a new learning stage, I began to fall out of favor and was no longer appreciated and cared for by teachers. I seem to fall from heaven to hell in an instant. Every time I see my classmates' gorgeous compositions, I envy them. By contrast, I feel that what I wrote is so tacky and naive. No wonder the teacher chose others to stop praising me. I began to feel uneasy, afraid to write any more, and even stopped writing a diary for many years. What I thought I liked at that time turned into a kind of injury after comparison, a kind of silent and naked ridicule. I no longer liked it and began to fear! Faced with confusion and loss, I chose to be a deserter, but the consequence of escaping is that I am becoming more and more unfamiliar with the once familiar words. ...

Later, the composition I have always been good at in the examination room became a pain in my heart. I am extremely anxious, but I suffer silently alone. Don't tell anyone, and don't expect anyone to listen to comfort. I didn't even talk to the words I loved. Only occasionally touched by a whim, I will unconsciously write a sentence or two with feelings and emotions. The word stopped writing in a hurry and ran away in a hurry.

In high school, this situation is still intermittent, and my mood is still fluctuating. I thought my love for words could only go so far. I want to break up with it on the grounds that I am under great academic pressure. But I was wrong. This is impossible to avoid. I can't escape without it after all. On the contrary, I love it more.

Occasionally, I have no intention of expressing my feelings. After I put pen to paper, my mood was like surging waves, and all kinds of emotions poured down and fell into a song. I am immersed in my own world, like a bird that has been trapped for a long time and lost its vitality, and I have been redeemed in an instant. Forget the words before writing, and forget yourself after writing. At that moment, premeditated tears wet my cheeks. I finally didn't lose touch with it, but I couldn't and I didn't want to.

When I volunteered for the college entrance examination, I didn't take it to the Chinese Department as I wished, but stumbled into the world that belongs to it but is not what I imagined-journalism. I feel depressed there, because the news requires objectivity and fairness, and I don't need too much subjective emotion, which is not what I want. I don't want much, but it's very simple. I just want to hold my pen in my hand, record the joys and sorrows I have experienced, remember my little happiness, express my feelings about people, things and scenery incisively and vividly, and be a writer with handy words. I write down my heart by hand, write down a warm old time, write down a beautiful poem that is not old, and whisper a long story that will last for the rest of my life.

I think God loves me, or it may be that I have an unfinished fate with words. In the writing class at the university, I found my true self again, and found my direction and love again in confusion. I met a teacher who asked me to write about people and things I know and want to write about. I heard that Mian College was going to offer a writing class, and I asked her for help with inner uncertainty and complicated feelings. During the conversation, I told her my thoughts and worries. She didn't laugh at me or give me a clear direction, but encouraged me to give myself a chance, give it a try and leave no regrets!

I took her advice, gave myself a chance to atone, and used it to bet on my love. As the darling of God, I successfully entered this class. In this class, I met everything I wanted to meet. There are a group of dreamers, persuasive tutors and dear friends my age ... A group of people have walked a long way together, accompanied by some scenery, and left a feeling of helping each other! What is even more surprising and fortunate is that, unconsciously, I bumped into my favorite words again. All this, for me, is really lucky and beautiful!

Because of a distant friend, I was lucky enough to know Ya Xiaohe, where I met a group of like-minded friends who also loved writing and life. We worked together. Often share good articles and discuss the exchange of works. In this process, thoughts and words collide and beautiful flowers bloom. We share each other's thoughts and feelings and speak freely. We get together because of words, know each other because of words, and gradually become a family that loves each other because of the traction of words. Because of the words, I met a group of friends on the road of growth. Because of the dream-chasing allies and the company of words, I am no longer lonely. I am bathed in the sunshine of love and grow and progress with the years. ...

Time will change, the world will change, my feelings about the world will change, and even my sad and happy expressions will change with age, just like crying when I was a child and laughing when I grew up. But I think, the only constant in this life will be my trust and love for words, my persistence and pursuit of dreams, my love and progress in life!

I have always liked a thoughtful and sentimental personality, which hurts spring and autumn. I like reading other people's stories and I am eager to write my own. I haven't imagined a future full of variables. I know the plan will never keep up with the change. So simply don't make too many assumptions and expectations, do it seriously, write heartily, pursue what you want, just want to get a peace of mind and be worthy of your time and life.

A love that consumes everything goes slowly, so it takes a long time.