Under the intermittent rain, ripples are rippling in my heart, and my calm heart has become a little fluctuating.
If life is just like the first time, you don't have to draw a fan in the autumn wind. How much helplessness does Rong Ruo's poem tell, and how much reality does it tell? After a lot of wind and rain, back to the original point, everything is no longer the same, no longer familiar with you and me before, with a naive smile.
A few days ago, someone suddenly said that I was very vicissitudes. Come to think of it, it is. I don't know when I learned to smile with tears; I don't know when I learned to hide my true feelings; I don't know when, but I can't remember what my original dream was.
Recently, I often think about a sentence-whether I am busy for my own ideal or not to disappoint others. After thinking for a long time, I seem to have thought of the answer, but I seem to have thought of nothing.
The ideal seemed within reach, but when I reached out to take it off, I found that I had never met him at all. Lost, in the misty white fog, at a loss.
A group of children who once talked about their ideals have now parted ways, doing things they are willing or unwilling to spend for themselves and others, and may not remember the ideals they once talked about.
I don't know who said that the most difficult thing to satisfy is human desire. It's hard not to disappoint others. I have been working hard all my life, living a life that I am satisfied with or dissatisfied with. But this is life.
Looking at the old photos, I remembered a sentence I once said in the guest book, "What I saw in the second half of the sentence and the people I thought of are often facts." Open the address book, look at familiar names, but don't know what to say to them, staring at the display.
Someone chatted with me and said that I was a naive child and didn't know how to answer; Someone chatted with me and said that I was a quiet child and didn't know how to answer; Someone told me that I was a child with a broken mouth, and now I still have a shadow. I don't know how to answer …
There are so many questions that I don't know how to answer them.
I don't know when I lost myself that I once knew very well, and I can't find it anymore. ...
Now of oneself, think only feel:
Confused, at a loss, confused ...