No matter in study, work or life, everyone often comes into contact with composition. Composition writing can exercise our habit of being alone, calm down our mind, and think about our future direction. So do you know how to write a good essay? The following is the composition of the second grade of junior high school that I have collected for everyone. Welcome to read and collect. Composition 1 of the second grade in my memory.

A most ordinary stainless steel plate contains a plate of rice rolls with full color, aroma and taste, garnished with green lettuce and exclusive secret soy sauce. Pour it on top and sprinkle the lean pork on it, which looks very tempting. This is the taste that I remember deeply.

I still don’t know what the name of this store is. I just remember that as long as I can remember, breakfast has been served with lean meat rice rolls from this store.

My grandma used to live near this store, but she later moved. I have lived at my grandma's house since I was a child, and I always had this rice roll for breakfast, so I got used to calling this rice roll shop "the rice roll downstairs in the old house".

When I was three years old, I went to kindergarten, which was far away from my old house, so I had to be driven by my mother. In the morning, she asked me to eat sausages alone, and she drove over to pick me up. In the past three years, meals The meal was so good that all the aunties in the breakfast shop knew me, not only because I came to eat this sausage every time for breakfast, but also because I couldn't finish it every time, so the aunties made a special small portion for me. , three years, every day.

Later I went to elementary school. Before the third grade, I still lived at my grandma’s house. The school was further away. I had to get up earlier just for that delicious sausage. Later, I moved into my parents' house, which was very close to the elementary school but far away from the breakfast shop. Gradually, I only went there to eat sausages on weekends.

Later, even grandma moved, and the whole family still used to call the rice roll shop "the rice rolls downstairs in the old house." The "rice rolls from the old house downstairs" taste amazing and incredibly delicious. Later, I tried rice rolls from many stores, including the well-known time-honored "Yinji Rice Rolls" in Guangzhou, but I always felt that the rice rolls from "Old House Downstairs" were the most delicious.

Perhaps the "Chinese Rice Roll Downstairs in the Old House" will close in the future, but I will never forget this breakfast shop. The fully open kitchen is greasy, with white mist and hot air wafting out. There are busy kitchen aunts, tables and chairs placed in the open air, and the noise from the street is mixed with the sound of clinking pots and spoons. If I were here, I would definitely sit in the same spot I had sat under the banyan tree for five years. I would skillfully pull out a pair of unopened disposable chopsticks from the chopstick holder, pour more than half of the water into the cup, and then dip the chopsticks into the cup. I washed myself up, chatted a few words with the fat aunt who served breakfast, and then ate the sausage while looking at the chicken essence ingredients on the chopstick tube that was originally made of chicken essence tube. The kitchen is noisy, white smoke is floating out, and the street is noisy, but here I am eating sausages quietly. This image, which has been repeated thousands of times in the past thirteen years, is deeply imprinted in my heart and memory, and it has pervaded every day before my third grade in elementary school and every weekend now.

This is my childhood memory. This is the taste deep in my memory. Composition 2 for the second grade of junior high school in deep memory

Time is like an hourglass. In tiny drops, the past is taken away silently from the fingertips, and the experience is slowly diffused in the time, some like the spring breeze blowing through the goose yellow. The gentle spring breeze under the treetops makes people warm, and some are like the dappled sunlight in the shade of trees in midsummer, which makes people comfortable. At the same time, there are also some things deep in my heart that always keep me alert and urge me to forge ahead.

I remember that it was an early morning in the winter two years ago. It had snowed heavily all night, and it was covered in snow. The sky and the earth were pure and elegant, and even the air seemed to be much sweeter. As usual, I chose to take the bus to school.

There are so many people taking the bus today, maybe it’s because of the cold weather and slippery roads. After getting on the bus, I found the only remaining seat at the very back. I quickly sat on it and felt much more comfortable. As the bus moved forward slowly, I looked out the window at the vast snowy scenery, the world of ice sculptures, and the passers-by hurriedly walking on the road, as if I had entered a fairy tale world.

While I was intoxicated, I turned my head inadvertently and saw a gray-haired old man standing next to me. I was about to stand up and give up my seat subconsciously, and then I saw the old man standing next to me. The uncles and aunts all acted as if nothing had happened, as if they had not seen anything. I stood halfway, sat back down, and continued to enjoy the beautiful scenery outside the window. But at this time, it felt like the snowy scene outside the window was no longer so beautiful. The branches hanging with white snow outside the window reminded me of my grandfather with white hair, and I couldn't help but feel a little ashamed. I thought of the saying "I am as old as the old as the old, and as young as the young as the young." Although I don't fully understand the meaning of this sentence, I thought that if my grandfather took the bus, he would also hope to be able to Get help from others.

I was about to stand up and give up my seat, when an uncle next to the car door stood up and said to the old man: "You come and sit here, I will just stand for a while." The old man said: "Thank you, young man." The uncle stood next to me, and his image in my mind suddenly became taller. But I noticed that this uncle had a strange movement. His hands tightly grasped the railing, and his body was pressed tightly against the railing, as if he was struggling.

After two stops, the uncle was about to get off the bus, and I discovered that he was limping a little when he walked. It turned out that he was also disabled.

I immediately understood his strange behavior of clinging to the railing in the car. Looking at my uncle's retreating back, I feel that this cold winter day seems to be much warmer.

Two years have passed, and the walking figure of that uncle has been flashing in my mind. Although he is not tall and his walking posture is not graceful, he represents the most beautiful image in the world. He is like a teacher, silently teaching me how to move forward; he is also like a beautiful flower, always blooming in my heart, allowing me to feel the truth, goodness and beauty of this world. Composition 3 of the second grade of junior high school in deep memory

Where is the distance in my heart? No one can answer this question, because the distance in everyone's heart is different, but you can always find the figure of the distance somewhere deep in your memory

Huaxi Yingqu Lane, the years go by increase. The Lijiang landscape in my deep memory is beautiful. Whether it is the snow-capped mountains dyed like a rose by the orange-red halo, or the moss with dewdrops on the edge of the stream, they are like an exquisite and flawless poster.

Some people say that Lijiang is a group of outsiders who open shops in other places to defraud outsiders of their money. The streets of Lijiang have turned into antique commercial streets, which makes me feel chilled. In the quiet night, only the waterwheel was left spinning alone, but the sound of running water that kept ringing in my ears had changed its taste when it reached my ears. It had turned into the sound of the owner closing the shop counting money.

Tibet in memory is the same. Some people say that Tibet is a place where one must go but cannot go again, and it is indeed true. The tour guide said that Tibetans in Tibet cherish their natural environment very much. Even the trees on some plateau grasslands are covered with walls. But when I saw their "love", I was disappointed.

The lakeside of Namtso, the holy lake on the plateau, is full of Tibetans standing there holding white yaks. "It's ten yuan to take a photo." The herdsmen looked at the tourists with bright eyes, as if they were looking at the moving hundred-yuan bills. The lake surface of Namtso is still blue, but the water near the lake has become turbid. The white yaks have turned gray, and their hair is still dripping with turbid lake water.

I didn’t understand at first why these two places came to mind when I thought of distant places. They are not as peaceful as West Lake, nor as beautiful as Huangshan, but now I understand.

Tibetan people’s devotion to Buddhism is why they have holy lakes and temples, and the history of Tibetan Buddhism. Because of its beautiful scenery and long history, Lijiang has developed commerce and a variety of handicrafts. The curiosity of the unknown is the backbone of the distance in my heart. It's just that their true beauty is obscured by all the sloppiness in the world.

Everyone has their own distant place in their hearts. It may just be buried deep in your memory, but it does not mean that they are not there in the distant place in your heart.

The world is not just about the present, but also about poetry and the distance. Looking at the depth of my memory, the distance in my heart may be covered with dust in a corner, but I still hope that my distance will always be there and always beautiful... Deep in Memory Composition 4 for the second grade of junior high school

I clearly heard the murmur of the sea.

Children who grow up by the sea cannot leave the sea. Grandma once said: "Children of the sea will eventually return to the sea." At that time, I was just a child, watching my grandma staring at the sea, the light in her eyes flickering and extinguishing. Like stars.

"Grandma, does the sea have a soul?"

"Of course it does." Grandma replied.

That sea was my childhood playmate. The sky there was so clear and the sea was so blue. The sound of the waves crashing is so beautiful and clear. It startled a group of seabirds, picked up a shell, and stirred up a touch of childlike innocence.

Listening to the sea is a kind of enjoyment.

On a sunny day, the sound of the sea is so gentle, just like grandma’s embrace. She gently stretches her branches and leaves countless gifts on the beach: shells, conches, cat’s eyes... I happily stepped into the sea. , as the sea rejoices, let the thick sunshine shine on it, and listen to the white waves: "wow-wow-wow-"

The sea in a thunderstorm day, the sound of the sea is so furious, like extremely Got grandpa’s temper. She slapped the rocks angrily, and the sound of the rain had already been swallowed up. Shan Liu's thrilling roar: "Pah-pah-pah-" I was listening to the sound of the sea in the house, and my grandma was working under the dim and warm light. Also with that frustrated tone: "The sea is anxious."...

I have fallen asleep to the lullaby-like sound of the sea countless times, laughed to the sound of the sea countless times, and thought countless times. Listen more to the graceful voice of the sea...

Ocean, please sing a few more words!

But I did not stay long under the watch of that sea.

My parents took me away from the sea.

Grandma handed me a large and exquisite conch. Her eyes were as deep as pool water, filled with emotions that I couldn’t understand. Grandma told me that there was the sound of the sea inside. I rubbed the conch and looked at the sea. She was still singing sleeplessly, seemingly never tired.

There is no sea in the city where my parents live, which makes me feel desperate. In the days that followed, I didn't have to go back to the sea. But whenever I'm happy, angry or disappointed, I pick up the conch and say, "Whoa-whoa-whoa-", each sound hits my soul and cleanses my heart.

In the depths of memory, there is a blue sea.

In the depths of memory, the sea sings sleeplessly.

In the depths of memory, the sound of the sea is moving and the sound of waves remains.

She will not stop deep in her memory.

I clearly heard the murmur of the sea. Composition 5 of the second grade of junior high school in deep memory

There was silence outside the window, not a single sound, only the few stars in the sky watching the vast earth...

Another one who had trouble falling asleep. night. As the speech approached, I felt the pressure. When I first heard about the speech, I thought I wouldn’t be nervous. But as the time approaches, my mood becomes heavier and heavier, so the experience of staying up late is unavoidable.

Open the door and look at the moonlight shining on my speech. Last week, I had a few of my beloved comic books on my desk. Now, they can only be put back on the bookshelf. I picked up the speech and started reading it over and over again.

The night is getting deeper, the wind is blowing gently, there is still silence outside the window, and even the crickets have stopped chirping. The light became brighter and brighter, and a moth hovered above the lamp. It’s been a week, and I still have the last paragraph left in my manuscript. I had thought about giving up, but looking at the results of my previous efforts, I persisted. Finally, I finished memorizing this manuscript. I was secretly happy but also began to worry secretly, what if I get nervous on stage, what if I forget my lyrics. All this is unknown. All I know is that the more effort I put in, the less likely I will make mistakes. I looked in the mirror and practiced my expressions and language over and over again. After making sure it was correct, I turned off the light and lay down on the bed.

The next day, I stepped on the stage to give a speech. In front of so many audiences, I started my speech. My heart gradually calmed down. To my surprise, I reached the same level as when I practiced at home. The expression is natural and the language is fluent...

The spotlight on the stage shines on me. The colorful lights are like a rainbow after the rain, shining on my body, making me feel like I am on the TV stage. . The moment the applause started, my tears flowed down.

There was silence again outside the window. In the darkness, the comic book was still lying quietly on the bookshelf. That was who I used to be, and my efforts and success at that time strengthened my belief in moving forward. No matter how hard and tiring it is, I firmly believe that as long as you put in enough effort, you will definitely reap the fruits of success. That speech has become a flower blooming deep in my memory, always telling me that maybe I am not good enough, but I am still working hard. Composition 6 of the second grade in deep memory

In the early morning, the sunlight shines through the glass window, and the sunlight exudes a fresh breath. Dust particles fall gently and slowly where the sunlight has been refracted. on the ground. How peaceful and beautiful the world is! Just once, it was such a peaceful morning - I was leaning on the window sill, holding a glass of warm milk in my hand. The strong aroma rippled in the room, adding a touch of warmth to the cool air, slowly coming from the east. The rising sun reflects the soft sunlight and enters my sight. The mist that filled the air carried my thoughts far away. A clear voice that only belongs to a child brought my thoughts back, "La la la la -" A little boy was jumping around on the grass, with a ray of sunshine and a clear laugh every step of the way. There is a young woman on the cobblestone road nearby. The smile on her face is like the rays of sunshine, quiet and gentle.

The woman’s eyes were full of pampering and love. That little boy must be very naughty and cute, often making his mother laugh or cry, or maybe he was so active and funny that his mother worried about him every day, but her mother still tolerated him. naughty?

In the memory, the sun has risen above the head, and its warm light shines directly on the earth. I walked slowly in the garden. Under the strong light, the green trees and red flowers on the path became more colorful. Although it was a bit hot, I felt refreshed. Suddenly, I was hit. It was a ten-year-old child, running rampant, followed closely by a woman. She was walking in a hurry, but obviously unable to do what she wanted. She shouted in a voice low enough for the child to hear. Be careful, and apologize to the passers-by who were hit. "Mom, hurry up!" "Here it comes!", the woman smiled, and the smile that matched the sweat was as dazzling and happy as the light of the sun high in the sky.

A woman follows her child with an attitude of abandonment, and protects her silently even if it is very hard. Not only is she connected by blood, but the child must also be lively and smart, which is a little pride in the eyes of the parents, right?

Cars drove through the streets. It was almost dusk. The orange light reflected on the streets through the lush leaves. The mottled shadows made people think about it. The magnolia trees beside the road had grown. New leaves appear, and the bare branches are no longer monotonous. A mother and son walked by on the street. The son seemed to be telling his elderly mother something. The old man's face was full of happiness. A smile spread from the corners of his eyes. The smile at the corners of his mouth was like the sunset, serene and deep. .

Is it the son who has been away from home for a long time and comes home to visit his old mother? Is the son who is busy all day finally willing to stay with his mother for a while?

Three smiles, three pairs of mothers and children, blend into the rising sun every day. The ever-changing sunshine is the mother’s overflowing love.

It is late at night, people are quiet, and the cold white light of the moon comes accompanied by the slightly twinkling stars. Cover your sleeping mother with a quilt and wish you a good night's sleep. Composition 7 of the second grade of junior high school deep in memory

Blue tiles and stone walls, low huts, dense paths, and gray stone gates evoke endless memories of the alleys.

At the entrance of the alley, there is always an old man who plays candy man and shouts: "Candy man, one dollar a piece..." On the way to school, he will always buy a "monkey" to taste it carefully, and it is so sweet. It's silky on the tongue but not greasy. The old man often wears blue work clothes and handmade black cotton shoes. As time went by, I became a regular customer.

"Child, let's change the shape today. How about making a 'little mouse'?" Seeing that I didn't speak, he started doing it on his own. I saw that he scooped out a spoonful of syrup and fixed it on a wooden stick, stretched a pipe into it, blew here, tapped there, and a lively little mouse was rubbing it around his fingers. He was born in the middle, but he did not end it. Instead, he tied a sugar thread tightly to the wooden stick. If you don't look carefully, you can't see it at all. I looked confused and asked why. He didn't explain. He just pressed his old and flexible hand on my left chest. The object inside was beating hard: "What is this? Heart! That's a candy heart." He paused and continued: "It's like Your heart will never change, your original intention is your lifelong belief." I looked at him half-understanding.

One day, several layers of people gathered around the place where Grandpa Sugar Man set up his stall. I squeezed forward and saw only those helpless eyes looking at his production tools. He was taken away by the urban management team because the location of the stall was not in the right place and affected the appearance of the city. I watched as the urban management vehicle took him away until a black spot became the same color as the sky. The flowers and willows were gone in several places, and the body became cold as the heat faded away. It was raining on the way home. I looked at the empty stall and felt a sense of loss without the candy man. I picked up the candy scattered on the ground and licked the earthy-tasting candy, but the sweetness made me feel like crying.

A few days later, there were a few pieces of black gauze in the alley. From the comments of people around me, I learned that my grandfather’s children were all doing decent jobs in the city, and they had to pick up the elderly several times. He lives in the city, but the old man is afraid that if he goes away, no one will remember what the candy man did. The faint embankment of my heart was washed away by the flood. At that moment, I seemed to understand what "heart" was. The most important thing in a person's life is the heart. Without the heart, the remaining body will have nowhere to rest. I took out the candy I picked up a few days ago and licked it. The cracks in my heart felt as warm as if they were patched up with cotton. My mouth was still sweet and fragrant. Grandpa Sugar Man lived in my heart, and his shadow was in a trance, leaving a little bit of it in reality. guidance.

I think about the candy man all the time, and the candy and the man have become one, blurring my eyes and shaking my heart. Deep in my memory are still the green tile stone walls and sweet alleys... Deep in my memory, I still remember the beginning. 2. Composition 8

In the depths of memory, there is an unexpected beauty.

——Inscription

The stars are bright and charming; the breeze is dancing charmingly. I never knew that the beauty of the moonlit night would be quietly treasured in the depths of my memory.

I remember that time I went to camp by the Jinsha River and lived in a tent by the river. Excited, I tossed and turned and couldn't sleep. Unable to suppress my inner curiosity, I went for a walk by the river.

The fishing lanterns on the other side were swaying, casting an orange halo on the water. Microwaves appear on the river surface from time to time, gently lapping at the wooden boats on the shore. The shadows of the trees danced under the moonlight, like a girl's long hair floating in the water. Looking up, the stars are shining brightly. Without the neon lights, the night sky is so clear that it shines deep in my memory.

In the eyes, the new moon is swaying.

Gaze at the gardenia-colored moon. Just like a curved hook, it is both real and illusory. The mist rising from the river covered her with a silver-white veil. Close your eyes and take a deep breath of night air. Is it old wine? Is it floral? Is it fragrant tea? No, it's the smell of night. That silent, quiet night was so quiet that it was so quiet that it was deep in my memory.

Beside my ears, the harp fluttered.

Listen carefully to the melodious sound of the wind like a harp. The wind is like a fairy's harp, moving from far to near, from small to large. Close, close! It is the intoxicating sound of nature and the light melody. The summer night wind blows away the heat and brings coolness. "Today's stars and tonight's wind", it turned out that that night with the breeze was so beautiful that it was so beautiful that it was deep in my memory.

Overhead, the stars are deep.

Look up at the magnificent Milky Way. The majestic Milky Way stretches across the sky and across the sky. The Cowherd and the Weaver Girl are facing each other across the river, facing each other from a distance. Their epic love spanning thousands of years has already transcended the limitations of time and space. Standing under the sky, we look so small and insignificant. The Big Dipper and the Southern Dipper accompany both sides of the Milky Way, silently pointing the way forward for those who are lost. The starry sky in summer is so brilliant. It turned out that the night with dense stars and the accompanying moon was so beautiful that it was so beautiful that it was deep in my memory.

The old me never saw the real starry sky or the quiet night. I was only accompanied by my homework, inseparable. In the past, night represented darkness to me, but this concept was easily broken by the unexpected beauty. Maybe, just maybe, if I hadn't gone to the river out of curiosity that night, I wouldn't have had that beautiful, beautiful night. I cherish that encounter with the starry sky very much, because beauty always only comes when you encounter it unexpectedly.

I carefully treasured it in the depth of my memory, the softest place in my heart. One day I will forget "that beauty", deep in my memory, quietly and quietly. Lying there was a summer night beauty that I met unexpectedly. Composition 9 of the second grade of junior high school in deep memory

Every fragment of memory glows with moving brilliance in the sunshine. These transparent, innocent, and innocent fragments carry a period of beautiful times, and those unforgettable bits and pieces are deeply locked in these fragments, turning into songs...

When I was a child, The fun of rural life is to go to the fields and watch "butterflies dance all the time, and the orioles are chirping at ease"; to climb to the top of the mountain is to "feel like you are at the top of the mountain, and you can see all the small mountains at a glance"; to visit the lakeside to enjoy "the setting clouds and the solitary swans flying together. The autumn water is always the same color as the sky." Of course, the happiest thing is playing in the fields with my brothers and sisters.

Walk in the breeze and laugh all the way. The little feet pattered through the puddles, and the little palms gently picked a dandelion and blew it away. Every little fluff is so white, so beautiful, so free. They don't have to worry about where they're going or where they'll end up.

Go to the river, take off your shoes, and slide along the bank into the river little by little. The little hands slapped the river surface, causing waves to splash. The little feet were caressed by the clear gurgling river water, letting the mud submerge the insteps. Occasionally, a few big white geese swim by, or they play with fish and shrimp, which is endless fun. If you encounter a good harvest, you can catch a bamboo basket full of shrimps and crabs.

I climbed onto the shore, patted my trousers casually, and left happily.

If you are lucky, you can see lotus flowers in full bloom in the lotus pond on the way home, swaying in the wind. The fragrance is like a melodious pastoral song that lingers in your ears for a long time; it is also like a butterfly flying around in front of your eyes; it is more like a castle that makes you want to get into it. The whole air is filled with fragrance, and you can't help but want to suck in all the air and never spit it out again. He quietly stole a few lotus leaves and, with a guilty conscience, rushed home without looking back. Cut a hole as big as your head on the lotus leaf, and then you can put it on your head as a bamboo hat, or you can put it on your shoulders to make a lotus leaf shawl.

The most pleasant thing at night is to enjoy the cool air in the courtyard. Holding the palm fan in hand, lying on the easy chair, watching the stars twinkling at night, or flicking the fireflies with a small fan, everything is free. In the courtyard, cucumbers bloom as many flowers as they wish, Japanese melons bear melons as long as they wish, and the vines keep spreading. If they wish to grow to the sky, no one will care about them.

There are far more memories than these, such as setting off firecrackers during the Chinese New Year, which scared the neighbor’s dog and barked strangely; going up the mountain to pick up fungi after the rain and getting dirty; climbing a tree to catch beetles in the spring and not daring to come down. There are many more...

I picked up the fragments of memory, connected them into beads, and buried the memory deep in my heart. That memory will always be with me, always, always, always... deep in my memory. Second Grade Composition 10

There is a sound that hovers quietly in the ears, condensed in the floating air, and floats lightly to the place called the past.

Click, click, click... click, click, click...

The sound of the old sewing machine came from this simple gray little bungalow. I lay on the table, holding on. The fat and bulging cheeks and eyelids are like the movements of grandma, accompanied by the rhythmic sound of the sewing machine, one step at a time, one step at a time. Such a voice blurs the years and makes thoughts clear.

Grandma is thin and small, and looks even more insignificant in front of the heavy sewing machine. But grandma is not as weak as she seems. Flexible operation makes the sewing machine look more like a tamed tiger. But to me, they look more like a pair of friends.

Every afternoon, the sound of sewing machines always lingers in every corner. The simple notes are like lovers dancing waltz, slowing down the flow of air, making it feel like breathing sweetness and happiness. Grandma's rough and thin fingers wound around the white wool, and her feet moved up and down like a seesaw. Grandma smiled and occasionally looked up at me who was drowsy. When I was a child, I could only feel the words beating in front of me. Now that I think about it, I feel intoxicated again.

When moving to a new house, my mother and uncle also asked my grandmother if they wanted to keep this dusty sewing machine. Grandma smiled, slid her fingertips across the black cloth covering the sewing machine, and said lightly: "No need, don't let this crap break what you call new fashion. It's old, and so am I." ”

The afternoon sun shines gently through the window gaps between the fingers, like a gentle caress, reminding people of the warmth of the past. Suddenly there was a clicking sound... a clicking sound... in my ears. I don’t know whether this string of sunshine brought back everlasting memories, or whether it was the memories that made this sunshine as tender and warm as yesterday.

Just for a moment, as if I was breathing the sweet and happy air of the past, my eyelids were weightless and I closed my eyes, and I fell asleep as peacefully as when I was a child. In the dream, it was the thin old man again, with tears in the corners of his eyes.

Indeed, there is such a voice urging us to grow, and there is even such a voice that witnesses the time. The sewing machine is old, and grandma is old. The years that have lost their glory make people feel sad and sad. I dare not estimate how long my grandma will be able to stay with me. I only know that the number of white hairs on her head will never be counted again. The clicking sound of the sewing machine is still reverberating like a lullaby, but the figure in the dream has not been visited for a long time.

Love is not a gorgeous text that can be woven arbitrarily. Love, like the steady and harmonious sound of a sewing machine, should stay in your heart forever.

There is a voice deep in our memory, and there is such a memory that allows us to experience love in our hands. Composition 11 of the second grade of junior high school

On the road of life , most of the things I have experienced have been washed away by the tide of time like footprints on the beach. But there are always some, like shells and pebbles, shining in the depths of our memories, remembering that sports meeting...

I walked towards the last 500 meters with heavy steps. Athletes passed me one after another. Now that I was ranked fourth, I heard the sounds of my classmates cheering me on, and my pace gradually accelerated. However, at the same time, other people were also speeding up, and I ended up failing miserably in fourth place.

From now on, I will never touch a thousand meters again. Because every time I run a thousand meters, I will think of the scene at that time. My teachers and classmates all placed their hopes on me, but I did not get a good ranking, and I developed a strong fear of the one thousand meters.

It was another sports meet. The teacher asked the classmates to recommend me. I no longer wanted to participate in the competition. However, she stood up and mentioned my name to participate in the 1,000 meters. At this time, the classmates started talking about him, is he okay? We lost so badly last time. I only got fourth place and still want to participate. But she retorted for me, her tone became a little more serious, "If he can't do it, you guys are here to participate?" Everyone knew that he was not feeling well that day. My hot face became cooler, and I felt a little cooler in my heart. The teacher agreed for me to participate in the competition, and my heart felt heavy.

So, I started to participate in training every day, and finally the day of the competition came.

The competition was about to begin, and the last champion laughed and said: "Hey, you still have the nerve to participate? Prepare to be the last one this time!" At this time, my heart was extremely angry, and she ran over and said: I handed over a bottle of water and said with concern: "Take a sip of water and be careful of heat stroke." I felt cool in my heart, and it was almost time to compete. She smiled at me, that smile was as touching as a snow lotus and as beautiful as a peony. Beautiful, as pure as a lotus, my confidence soared.

As the referee blew the whistle, I walked side by side with the champion, and it was these people again. The only difference was that this time, she was the only one cheering for me. Finally, there were only three or four hundred meters left. I accelerated to the fastest speed, and her cheering sound rang in my ears. I surpassed him in an instant. This time I won the championship, and she showed a knowing smile.

Her smile left a deep impression in my life. She has always helped me in my study life. I will never forget her smile.