Some people, some things, are beyond their subjective control, and the more clearly they want to avoid them, let alone those who walk into the depths of life. A certain feeling, a certain emotion, once deposited in the heart, becomes an organic composition of limbs, trying to peel off and shield it, just like a runaway wild horse, rushing forward and rushing forward.
The wind is strong outside the window, the snow is falling from the sky, Wang Shizi is fluttering in the tower room, and there is silence between heaven and earth. You saw it in a trance. That girl in Tsing Yi, with a purple umbrella, is coming to you, still so Myanmar, full of bookish spirit and faint smile. She came to you from the depths of her memory. Wang Shizi, the tower room, hugs you with thin arms, leans on your back, whispers and never leaves.
Sometimes, I like the inevitable ups and downs in my life. The story of Wang Shizi, a tower house, makes my life more full and moist. Walking in the ocean where family, friendship and love meet, I interpret all the joys and sorrows of youth in my own unique way. Maybe I will be sad and transparent, maybe I will be happy and profound. In short, I am experiencing the distance that life should let me experience. I thought about it for a long time, but I dare not define my life after all. Sometimes it's so messy that I can't even imagine. Sometimes it is neat, so neat that I can't believe it; Sometimes it's a fairy tale, because I always believe in a dream life. Wang Shizi, the tower room, of course, will produce small flowers. Even if the flowers can only make me intoxicated, the world will at least belong to me. agree
0| Comments
2012-3-1818: 41enthusiastic users
From the Spring Festival to the present, there has been no pleasant rain and snow in Wang Shizi on a Tower, and God is even more frowning. I feel particularly cold and sunny all day. Feifei's rain in Mao Mao has become an extravagant hope in my heart. I hope spring can come soon, see Liu in March, and look forward to the lingering spring rain. At that time, I will no longer write prose in "Wang Shizi Going to the Tower", because this is a poetic season.
Bored in the dead of night, I like to type my thoughts and feelings into words and post them in a space that can't be regarded as a personal blog, while Wang Shizi in the Tower should be regarded as an electronic diary. What a pleasant thing it is to wait for a few intimate friends to walk in when they are free, listen to their cheers, praises, pursuits and enjoy the whistle of die-hard fans.
I know that the cycle of four seasons is independent of people's will. You can wait or not. Spring will not come at a gallop, nor will it come late. Experienced the cold of the severe winter, witnessed the withering of everything, and longed for spring from the heart. I sometimes even worry that the oxygen in winter will be absorbed by greedy people, and I will lack oxygen. Seeing catkins and green leaves is equal to seeing hope.
Tension and heavy work, Wang Shizi's rooftop house has become the biggest pressure this year. I gave up many social activities and felt guilty in my heart. Just like Darwin's biological evolution theory, the survival of the fittest seems to be an iron law in this world, and no one is irreplaceable. Without yellow mud, I can strike while the iron is hot. Where there is competition, there is pressure. If there is pressure, I will work harder. I don't want to be.
Good times, "Wang Shizi on a Tower" is always so short, happiness is fleeting, and the sun has turned to the day when she had to leave school. With tears in my eyes, I bid farewell to my classmates, teachers, campus and your loved ones. Unexpectedly, this parting turned out to be the world of mortals. A series of question marks rise in your heart. You have been racking your brains to find the answer to "Wang Shizi in the Tower Room", but after all, you don't understand, it's been a thousand years. You ask yourself over and over again, what's wrong? Or did you hurt her unintentionally? My brain hurts, but I'm still trapped in the fog. You are afraid of her misunderstanding, afraid that she can't find the way back, so where she knows, you dig up your inner love and affection for her again and again. The silent voice from the bottom of my heart that moved me to tears merged into a steady stream, knocking on the trembling heartstrings and singing colorful poems. She, perhaps too far away, didn't hear your cry, and the silent air killed your persistence. You're singing. You sang hundreds of her favorite songs. You open the dust pad and put the pen on the paper. You turn on the record player and record your carefully crafted voice. You pick the stars in the night sky, mosaic them into kites and send them to her sky. But everything, blowing in the wind, your tears broke and you fell to the ground.
No matter how tired I am, I will relax myself. In fact, there are many ways. Writing is the best way for me to relax. My heart is moving and my hands are moving. These words became articles in front of me. In my spare time, I occasionally pick up my camera to capture wonderful moments, and even drive on the highway for a short time. I am simply happy to get together in groups of three and five to play mahjong.