Looking through my recent articles, I suddenly found that I dared to admit my past stupidity. Although I am stupid, I think this is an experience of struggling to grow up in a clumsy posture. When I read the article I just started writing a year ago, I saw my panic, my fear, my cowering and my resentment. .......
I saw myself pretending to be strong, I saw myself silently comforting myself even if I was weak, and I saw myself licking my wounds in the dark. False strength is really fragile. .....
Slowly, you will find that, well, the world has not changed, but you are changing.
In the past, I may not admit frankly how naive I was, how many stupid things I did and how many wrong paths I took, because I was not qualified, dare not, and had no confidence, because I am stupid now. I just want to live the most beautiful and excellent look in the eyes of others, even if my heart is scarred. I fell into it before I knew it.
As a result, the state of "self-deception" lasted for a period of time in life. Just want to prove it, just want to get everyone's recognition and praise. This is the biggest pit I have ever jumped and stayed in for the longest time.
Fortunately, God will be kind to those who are single-minded, no matter how clumsy your upward posture is, at least that heart is sincere.
Now, I will face it frankly and admit this incomplete self. No, it's more "ridicule". Before "hurting" myself, I was not stingy in choosing words and making sentences. Who made my former self so stupid? There is another word "stupid". How can I get it off my chest when I describe myself?
Of course, it seems silly now, but I have found some methodologies that can make me "smart" and put them into practice in my life. I can feel my change, though not as expected.
Having the courage to laugh at yourself yesterday shows that you are better today than you were yesterday. Today's self stands at another height and looks down at yesterday's low self, and you will see a more three-dimensional and complete self.
Of course, a great part of this courage comes from the satisfaction of seeing my own shortcomings and progress before I correct them, because growth is the most important thing. If you can see yourself getting better, what is there to care about? Just concentrate on growing up.
I came across a poem today, which touched me a lot. Write it to yourself and share it with everyone. This is a poem written by the poet Bai Hua:
boat
I have had many such adventures,
From heaven to hell in a flash;
Every lovely and gentle spray,
It became a mountain that suddenly rose and then collapsed.
Every drop of seawater changes color,
As beautiful as blue;
The vortex is wrapped around the vortex,
I was thrown into the sky and plunged into the abyss. ...
I even thought about suicide at that time.
At present, there is an endless sea of suffering;
Giving up hope is like giving up the tiller,
Under violence, you can only be silent and lament.
Today I have the right to laugh at myself yesterday,
Ashamed of yesterday's fear of falling leaves;
How many years have been wasted,
The hull was hit by rocks many times. ...
Cast nets in the ocean thousands of times,
Capture a little bit of life experience,
It suddenly dawned on me,
Ah! The fact is simple:
Are you going sailing?
There must be thousands of monsters coming out to stop it;
Abuse and bullying are their games,
Creating extinction is their only talent.
I'm destined to meet them often,
Because my name is boat;
Facing an opponent ten million times stronger than himself,
The only thing that can save yourself is sobriety and courage.
Fear will only make you blind,
Blindness can only exaggerate the ferocious face of the devil;
Maybe I look worse than them,
When I fight with my life, I will go forward bravely!
As long as I have a complete keel,
Never sail into a sheltered harbor;
Put your life on the road,
Let courage determine the width and length of the road.
I'm completely free,
The bow became a shovel to bury them;
I jumped rhythmically in the waves,
It's like swinging on a huge swing.
Even if they finally tore me apart,
Turn into some wood chips;
I won't sink, never!
I will also ride the wind and waves.
Future generations will recognize me on the fragments,
Future poets will sigh:
"There is a happy soul here,
It used to be a moving ship ... "