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I thought he didn't care about me, so he always listened quietly with his head down in class.
I am very worried about whether the seedlings planted on campus are like me, and I can't see hope in all the love. I am also confused and disappointed.
Another exam, my score is not too high or too low, and I am in the ranks of middle school students, neither top-notch nor backward.
Just like me, I have always been a self-indulgent and unknown life.
That season, the summer sunshine was wantonly extravagant, like a grand farewell, trying to destroy everyone's passion and strength. The students in the classroom are all sleepy. I sit up straight, sweat profusely, and strive to pursue glory and dreams. I just hope he can notice me, a unique and good flower. I can be ecstatic about his gentle glance.
Surprisingly, these seedlings used to be tall and straight. Strong branches support a green shade, full of trees and green trees, pouring down like a waterfall, cutting the bright sky into thin pieces, covering a tree like stars, brilliant and beautiful. Looking up at it, lost in thought, is my future equally eye-catching and brilliant?
He finally came to me. Solemn and dignified as god, kind and kind as father. My face turned red and my heart beat faster. I clumsily tried to cover up the dazzling score, but I managed to make an intentional or unintentional expression, and my palms were obviously sweaty.