Selected 600-word Prose on Philosophy of Life Part I: Parting, Parting, Time Blurring Friendship, Stormy. I can't feel the rain, my clothes are wet in cold weather, and I can't tell whether it is rain or tears when I cry in the rain.
Rainy days are the most emotional. It's still a cold wind all night, full of rehmannia leaves. Look at the drizzle outside the window, how poetic and hazy. The lens covered with raindrops makes the world more fantastic. Sometimes it's really fun not to see clearly.
My favorite is snowy days, a pear tree and a garden full of plain colors. I prefer the snowy weather. It doesn't snow fast, as if there is a deep attachment to the sky. How romantic it is to float in the air. Even though it is hard to sweep the snow, I am still looking forward to it. Although I have no choice but to put on thick winter clothes and bake my increasingly red hands around the stove, year after year, winter always makes me look forward to it.
I won't throw snowballs violently. I can't bear to destroy a white carpet. I just enjoy the romance of snow flying in the air. Waiting for only a string of autumn rain, cold and soft heart. Rainy days are so touching. Last autumn, the past year, the past day, there was always a little nostalgia, beautiful and unforgettable, but the ending was always disappointing.
I used to believe that time would kill everything when a drop of water wears through a stone and a rope saws through wood. Now I believe that our relationship will not change. In my heart, forever.
Another winter, in the same place, or those five people, in different positions, so far and so close. Even if snow lingers in the sky, it will fall. As time goes by, next winter, it may still be snow, and it will fall. Just different people, different moods.
When I saw that photo, I couldn't cry. I only sigh silently. Should I be glad or complain? Should this friendship exist or not?
But in short, with happiness and tears, we can't change it, we can only let nature take its course. I think I have adapted and changed. Maybe this is a test of heaven, so let it come.
600-word essays on philosophy of life Part II: Tick-tock, time is running out. Open the pink memory box, and the five-flavored bottles in my heart are broken together-sweet, sour, bitter and salty suddenly come to mind. Unfortunately, the past can never come back, and there is a sigh in my memory. -inscription
Flowers bloom and fall, year after year, early childhood, followed by that hard student time.
Once, I loved fantasy, dreaming and giggling. Now, grown up. They waved to me and said, "I'll never see you again", leaving me to put down the pain with a wry smile.
Once, I liked to snuggle up in my mother's arms and listen to stories. Once, I cried for Sanmao's wandering: once, I put foam in a bottle. Muse: Tell me, Princess, that bad witch turned you into a bubble.
Everything that used to be so innocent.
Grow up and fall in love with books. Eager to roam in the world of books. Whenever I have time, I go to the bookstore to steal grandma Bing Xin's poems, Zhu Ziqing's essays and Qiong Yao's earth-shattering novels.
And that reality is like that, so cruel. The reins of my grades tied me to the desk; The ice wall of grades separated me from extracurricular books for two generations; The sharp arrow of achievement stabbed my dream.
Therefore, I have to ramble in the chaotic physical formulas, math exercises, English words and China's ancient poems, all in order to win my parents' smiles.
The flower god complains, and I am haggard.
I remember going to play with my partner once that summer vacation, because it was cool, I forgot myself and time. When I got home, it was already a foggy night. After stepping into the house, I enjoyed the expected thunder. Fortunately, I didn't have the rainstorm Socrates encountered. Instead, a pile of test papers made a disgusting smile.
It's boring to live a mechanical life like a robot every day.
Looking up, I saw bare branches swaying yellow leaves in the wind. It's already autumn ~
Sighing past and present, the voice is slow.
600 words of essays on philosophy of life Part III: Let go. Time always likes to play jokes on people, and you will know how to cherish it if you miss it. However, time always abandons that boring plaything after playing with a person like that. I didn't want to be a plaything of time, but I accidentally became a plaything of time. Looking back suddenly, I found that I lost the person or thing I loved most.
I always look back and find that the person I'm waiting for has long gone. My sad heart is broken under the agreed tree and I can't get it back. How many years of wandering, the heart of running away from home was injured again and again in the wind and rain. In retrospect, I realize that I have always been passionate about myself.
Our years, from small to large, we parted and got together several times, how many sad tears we drank, and how many people he never forgave in the years. Swallows turn around and it is the spring breeze of the year, and the fragrant path in the small garden wanders alone. When will it end? I have an agreement with him. We all have dreams. No matter whether we succeed in chasing dreams for several years, we will all come back after three years. But now I am the only one waiting for the speeding train under the tree, and a ticket that has already expired is tightly held in my hand. Waiting for the train that never came back, I missed one train after another. How many people's hearts have been hurt inadvertently, I have never understood, letting go wasted my years in the infatuation waiting again and again. Looking back suddenly, I know that I missed my column, and my sadness can only increase my sadness and regret. It's hard to forget, but it's so hard to let go of what you once focused on. I know I missed it in sorrow again and again, I understand. Looking back, I feel sad, but I can't forgive myself.
Let me go. Learn to be yourself again by letting go.
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