Sentimental prose

The back is true, people are fake, and there is no persistence. A hundred years ago, you were not you, and I was not me. Sorrow is real, tears are fake, and there is no cause and effect. A hundred years later, there will be neither you nor me-the inscription Qian Zhongshu said: "Because it is fast, happiness is short-lived." This sentence is heartbreaking. Life is fragile, and teenagers are always sentimental, all of which doomed our life to continue to be painful and happy. Looking at the raindrops falling outside the window, you will feel helpless. It is the broken wings of angels scattered all over the world, covering your windows and your eyes, flowing down your face and into your mouth, just to taste the bitter taste. Bitterness is not inevitable. The heart washed by rain is a clear mirror, like apricot flowers flowing in the south of the Yangtze River, sweeping away the dust, facing the bright sunshine and emitting a fresh breath. That kind of sweetness is because of bitterness. I have never forgotten that I know how to be happy. There are always many helpless forced grievances and helpless pains in my heart, but I will always come up with countless excuses to be strong, brave, optimistic and positive. I know that there are too many hardships in life, which keep us tightly in our hearts. It's not that teenagers talk about worry for no reason. It is the melancholy days, bitter flowers and dim time given by life. There is no pain before suffering, and there is no pain before suffering. Pain and happiness have long been confused.