I don't know how I should write, to be precise I don't know how to string the moods of this year together in a complete way with what kind of words, so that they can hang there like gorgeous crystals without losing their original flavors, so that you can share them, so that you can understand them. ^

When I wrote the first word of this hot August, I suddenly noticed many unknown flowers blooming in patches outside the window, red, yellow, pink and white, rippling with flowers and greenery, full of beautiful colors. God, when did these flowers open? This kind of momentum in full swing should not be only a few days.

I wondered if these flowers had opened up so beautifully throughout the year, and if so, I suppose I should be grateful for them. I could smell a lot of sweetness in the air, and a very beautiful word popped up: blossom! The blossoms are undefeated. The blossoms are undefeated!

I think I can finally calm down and tell you the many, many stories that have happened in this year, and I think that no matter what happens in the future, I will never forget the little bits and pieces and drops of this year.

The week before my senior year began, I had a parent-teacher conference. It was a very serious parent-teacher conference, one in which no one was absent or even late. The teacher mobilized almost all the emotions of the parents in that meeting. The importance of the senior year of high school is needless to say, the so-called "success is also the senior year, failure is also the senior year", no matter how brilliant the children in the past, no matter how much they failed, the class teacher so a thin little girl, but leaned on the side of the podium for a speech for two hours of fighting spirit, only to make us believe that things are possible. Miracles or evils will be dramatically chalked up during the year.

The school crafted a ranking table of freshman and sophomore grades in each subject in order to give each student a clear picture of where he or she ranked in the class, grade, and even in the district and city. Thinking about it now, I have to admit that that table was really exquisitely done. The total score of each grade, the standardized rank, the comparison with the average score in the grade, and even an elaborate chart of the resulting results, and finally a specific analysis of the overall rankings. Densely packed with a sheet of paper, can be said to be painstaking.

My father came back from school with a grim face, and the situation was not optimistic as I estimated: 190th in the grade. A dreadful position.

"There is hope. The teacher said anything is possible." My father said he believed in me, yet I wondered if I should believe in myself one more time. But there was no turning back. We are pawns who have crossed the river and cannot turn back.

The only way I can stand up to my parents, my teachers, and most importantly, myself, is to whip my horse and catch up.

11 years of long preparation period, finally came to the battle curtain, the moment of desperation. I must say goodbye to my scattered, irresponsible past.

I rushed into the battle when I was already losing, yet the battle had already begun and there was no hiding.

Senior year is really different.

If the horrors of senior year are not yet apparent at the beginning of this demon's debut, the changes that senior year brings are first and foremost psychological. There will always be a string taut in your brain, and it's there all the time, all the time. When you are in a boring English class and your mind drifts out of the window, when you are doing a "super low-level" math problem that is too much to calculate and is purely an exercise in patience, and you are tempted to refer to someone else's answer, and when you are forced to sit at your desk at 12 o'clock at midnight to memorize the long, tongue-twisting "People's Democratic Dictatorship" meaning, memorized head like a chicken pecking rice in general, the string "boom" came a deafening: "senior year, how can you be so degenerate!" Then, the whole person a jolt, followed by the heart of the wildly beating more than, and immediately strengthened the spirit, continue to respond to the war.

In the beginning of the senior high school period, almost everyone is hesitant to jump, everyone is unusually bold non-Fudan Jiaotong University does not enter, I put a "kill into the Fudan" on the bedside of a large banner, in the early morning every day and before going to sleep are shouting a few times, to increase their own a little less pathetic confidence. All the dreams are in the college entrance examination under the pressure of the abstract into their own recognition of the sacred school, at that time as soon as I heard any news about the Fudan, immediately blood boiling, excited, as if all the things in the dazzling aura of the school eclipsed.

I never thought about the huge gap between the 190th percentile score and Fudan, and my classmates around me didn't seem to realize the horrifying array of thousands of people crossing a single wooden bridge. We cling to the dream in our hearts, and yell "I want to × × ×", that kind of psychological and thus create a touch of tension, is not senior people can not understand.

The first real fight from senior year came soon.

The first semester's midterm test, the one we thought we were ready for, was killed. Our rankings were turned upside down, just as the teacher had predicted earlier. Many of the students in the class who had never been known before were like dark horses, and all of a sudden they blew everyone's minds. Between the ups and downs, the ups and downs, many people began to become practical. Peking University's school door is indeed art enough to qualify, but not everyone can be there to feel the elegance of the gruel less than a lot of embarrassment for each senior in reality and the dream of a huge gap in front of the woeful.

I'm one of the very few who still holds on to the fantasy. Please note that I used the word "fantasy", that is, the kind of thing at the time it seems to feel impossible to realize, according to reason, I such as in the freshman and sophomore year of high school is not competitively hovering between two or three hundred, and in the senior high school has been a quarter of the past, but is still to maintain the momentum of the small plate growth of the people of the Fudan University, such a national top school should not have any illusions again. But God knows how I got there. But God knows how I had such a spirit of revolutionary optimism at that time. I stubbornly held on to the idea that "every time you take a test, you move forward by 50," and I was obsessively calculating and foolishly pleased.

And later facts also proved that it is because of their own kind of frightening optimism, only to have the motivation to persevere, only to make the absolutely impossible gradually step by step to realize the dawn of hope.

With the brutal facts to defeat the original fragile young people on the fragile self-confidence, is the senior thrown to us the first killer mace.

The firmness of the psychological defense is an extremely important reason why we can win this war.

At that time, I did not realize that this kind of persistence and some silly strength has such a great magic, just stick to the "Fudan" that guarded the 11 years of the abstract name, I do not even realize what price to exchange this childhood on the beautiful concept, just follow it closely, over and over again, read it silently. I just follow it closely and repeat it over and over again.

I traded my hubris for a tiny bit of advantage without even realizing it, and I actually didn't realize that it was really a good place to start.

I went to talk to my homeroom teacher once, and the petite, cute, feminine-looking teacher said softly as soon as she saw me, "You did well this time, keep it up next time, and Huazheng can make a dash for it." I still can't figure out how I was so determined and bold: "I want to take the Fudan exam." The teacher, who has always been very ladylike, couldn't help but open her mouth in the shape of an "O". Fortunately, she quickly took into account my feelings and then said softly, "Then you have to work harder. But there's hope, there's hope." I grinned stupidly. There was a bunch of roses in full bloom on the table, so red that they looked like they were about to drip out of the water, stretching upward in vigor. The sunlight slanted in, illuminating the early fall office with a burst of warmth.

Now that I think about it, that teacher's glib remark gave me much motivation. Not to mention how much affirmation in her words, but that "there is hope" is like a bright lantern, in the days that followed, always hanging in my head, along with the sweet smell of roses on the table that day, making me feel warmed up.

The next days began to become more and more bland, more and more simple, a single repetition.

Every morning, I rushed into the classroom, which was full of people, out of breath, put my bag, took the exercises, and began to do the calculations. That day by day similar but not quite the same day now think of has been abstracted into always written densely draft paper, blackboard has been wiped not clean formula, exercises, the teacher a sentence from the heart of the advice and always floating in the air rustling chalk dust.

The boys' hair was always in a mess, one rooted in there, and all the girls' beautiful clothes were simplified into neat and tidy uniforms of the same color. We will occasionally lift our eyes from the messy piles of paper piled up as high as a mountain, and look at the blackboard to see how much money to pay, what books to buy, and other crooked notices recently copied out. The day just like this in the ordinary drip in the flow away.

The humor cells of the students in the class were trained to be extremely sharp in this simple environment, and once any minor detail was caught, it was immediately exaggerated and expanded, and then attracted the sensation of the whole. A writer's article on "dog farts / dog farts / dog farts" drew a frenzy of table slapping and laughter from the entire class, as well as table leg removal and banging. The teacher said it was a sign of senior syndrome. Because our lives are so monolithic, any little thing that sends ripples through the air brings us immeasurable joy.

Physical education is the only class that can't be encroached upon by the school, and the boys often play basketball in physical education until their sweaters can wring out the water, while the girls play shuttlecock and jumping ribbons on the side, getting away with it.

Every Friday afternoon, the short time after two classes was designated as "game day". We racked our brains to bring something to school to play with. A childish game of "flicking coins" was a particular favorite. Get a few dimes, one dollar coins on the table, with a few pieces of rubber built up as a goal, regardless of the boys and girls all lying on the table screaming and laughing, fussing and having a good time. I myself can not understand, has been held a rite of passage how we can be so easily satisfied, laugh how so hysterical.

"When you play, you play hard, and when you study, you study hard." It is an unbreakable truth that we senior students believe in.

The numbers on the countdown board for the high school exams were getting smaller and smaller, and we were running out of time. The teacher yelled at us, "Do what you need to do." We didn't have the same kind of hookups between classmates like in other books, and we were always happy when we were together. No matter how bitter or boring it was, I knew that at least there were brothers who stood in the same trench as me. There is no such thing as a student who pretends to play in school and works hard at home, because there is no time or energy to prepare for all that hypocrisy, and no one wants to do that, and frankly, doesn't care to do it.

Then one day, I don't know who inserted a bundle of fresh lilies in the classroom, pink and white kind of perfume lilies, the whole fall, the classroom always lingered in the quiet smell of lilies. We were not careful in the light sweet smell day after day in the calculations, no one to deliberately pay attention to the bundle of quiet lily, but it and its flavor but really y branded in everyone's heart.

I don't know what word to use to accurately express my feelings at that stage, maybe "solid". I still yell "Fudan" when I get up early and go to bed late every day, but I don't talk about "Fudan" over and over again. Everyone is careful to collect the dream in the bottom of the heart, with their own ways to do their best possible efforts, progress and honor these ethereal things are we can not grasp, only this day by day real day is what we can see and hold. I can see my classmates and myself in this day by day pristine real effort, my grades in this sense of solidity in the steady climb, little by little neither too fast nor too slow forward. This feeling, now that I think about it, is really good.

The days of the second semester of the senior high school compared to the first semester of the calm has changed, adding a lot of restlessness and uneasiness, the first round of the combing of knowledge and the second round of the systematic mastery of comprehensive questions has come to an end, the third round of intense exams and bombardment of the sea of questions and tactics ensued.

It was an indescribable period of time.

The first time I saw this, I was in the middle of a long journey, and it was a long time coming.

The teacher no longer helps us to summarize anything in class, but just sends down a pile and a pile of simulation papers for each subject to be tested in the classroom. I don't know how the teacher can have so many papers, each district of each kind of paper we have to do once, analyze once, and then sampling once. There are also other cities, all kinds of national unified examination papers, as well as the previous college entrance examination papers, and even those unknown study newspaper on the strange test questions are also the teacher without any omission to search down to us to do. There were quizzes for one class, big quizzes for two classes, and mock exams for the whole year's self-study classes. All of the papers were graded, and the teachers alternated between students for the quizzes that they couldn't grade in time. The most important thing to remember is that it's not just a matter of time, it's a matter of time, and it's a matter of time.

It was a powerful stimulus.

Their actual scores and the original conception is a stimulus, other people's scores and their own scores and a comparison of a stimulus, and several scores into the general trend is the biggest stimulus, I in this day a few of the stimulus gradually become unusually numb, the knife and the gun is invulnerable to the blow after blow in the "and then again to clean up the old mountain and river! ", in the miserable failure to exercise and blood swallowing teeth of courage and perseverance, become more and more calm, more and more strong. That is the most memorable part of the senior year.

Tests and analysis became the whole content of life. Counting the time to do the paper, revised, analyzed, according to the wrong questions in the practice, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. We change "go back and do N papers today" to "go back and do this book today", delay the time to go to bed again and again, and set the alarm clock to wake up earlier and earlier.

Memorize N words every day, do N papers every day, and complete N revisions every day.

The schedule was densely scribbled, and every time you completed one, you crossed it out with a colored pencil. That a line a shocking bar and the examination paper on the red big fork, drip drip do sprinkled every dusk and morning, paved the school and home that the only visible beautiful flowers of the path, like a mountain as high as the yellowed pages, immersed in the moldy air and slowly moving. Sometimes at home, memorizing books to tears, books want to throw out the window, but as long as the silent recitation of a few times "Fudan" will immediately calm down. I carry a heavy head, a blank heart, willingly buried in that rancid house over and over again "the classics, abcd". I don't understand how such a loose person could have become so serious all of a sudden and moved the earth.

Now, I am sitting in the air-conditioned room cozy sorting out the books of the senior year, still admire their own perseverance and courage, a few large book densely written notes full of annotations, half a meter high each carefully done, carefully revised and analyzed examination papers, and a dictionary as thick as the 16th of the classic mathematical exercises, each question actually have four or five solutions, was read no less than ten times. In that cold winter and the climate of the strange spring, I use wrinkled hands rough handwriting a word by word, a question by question to prepare the heart of the sacred and the only dream, I think this is the impact of senior high school has brought me and change it.

Growing up is the balance of longing and nostalgia, and when it tilts so much that it collapses, what kind of sound should be used to soothe those lost moonlight nights. --Gao Xiaosong

Old Wolf's songs I like, in that period of time, Old Wolf let me quiet, let me release. I think if I were to use someone's voice to soundtrack my senior year of high school, Old Wolf's, would be very appropriate. The sound of waves hidden under the calm.

With the shame of 190 names, I made a final struggle with reality with a broken mood. I scrutinized the weights in my hand, and there was nothing left but effort. I think that every senior who has struggled to savor the beauty of the narrowness of this intercepted all the way back, are in the heart to feel the last mood in the kind of melancholy feelings. Fill in the ambition is a deadly thing, far more complicated than I thought, let a person can not stand.

"Conservative, conservative, more conservative." Became the overriding principle of filling out an aspiration.

My situation was somewhat desperate. The poor background of the whole family is not enough to arouse the favor of any capable person, and their own results are so weak that they do not have the ability to cry out. The first half of the year's hard work resulted in a slightly more advanced position in the top 80 of the grade, but in the shadow of the previous years 190 and Fudan's unattainable threshold also became frustrated.

In the end, even the principal spoke out: "You'll only have 30% hope of getting into Fudan. You have to think about it carefully."

In those days, my nerves became more fragile than ever before, and I floundered and hesitated between the unattainable dream and the relatively safe retreat.

So I chose to give up, I dare not let the Fudan as a beautiful fairy tale only exist in the mouth, I dare not use the egg of non-confidence to touch the hard stone. I could not bear the despair of going from heaven to hell in case of failure. I shakily wrote down the name of the school that I had never thought of, amidst cheers of unanimous approval, and let the word "betrayal" explode in my head.

After handing over the form, I took a two-hour bus ride alone and sneaked onto the Fudan campus for an afternoon to mourn the loss of my dream. Fudan is so beautiful! The overwhelming azaleas quietly and intoxicatingly opened on the campus. It was a perfect reflection of the solemn and sacred Fudan campus as I had imagined it to be. My tears flowed down at once. I'm not willing to ah, I'm not willing to do a 12 years of dream so by a thin piece of paper is completely shattered, I'm not willing to senior year this year, day after day, regardless of all the hard work is so by a "insurance" reason and buried. I know that nothing can replace the Fudan in my heart that kind of important position, if it is really high scores into the other schools of any department, that kind of regret is not to sit in front of the Fudan to cry a place to dispatch it?

I know that that one hot Sunday afternoon, I thought that a persistent idea of victory. Now, come to think of it, that one afternoon of serene and beautiful Fudan helped me make a decision of my own how important it was.

Finally, I made my own decision - I asked for my volunteer form back under everyone's astonished eyes, and solemnly and neatly filled in the form "Fudan University" with the four big words that excited me. That's really the most comfortable I've written in 12 years, the most beautiful four words, these four words is also the most important decision I've made in so many years by my own will, is the most reflective of the initial weight of my life a decision.

I want what I want, even if it is in front of the reality of being hit in the head, even if it is in the college entrance examination field to lose a defeat, this is my own choice.

Just as the students, defeated in the examination room.

The next day there is no longer anything worth writing about.

After getting the Fudan notification letter, I finally couldn't resist going to see the familiar classroom. The last room in the south corridor of the fifth floor to go in. The youth of the senior year flowed away from here. The glass vase on the podium is unexpectedly inserted with a bunch of lavender forget-me-nots, tender green petals sporadically dotted with them, gently swaying in the wind.

The three hundred days and nights of the senior year of the little bit by little bit, but also as a beautiful flowers, blooming in the heart of each person. Maybe not every flower is beautiful and amazing, not every flower is fragrant and shocking, and not every flower can bear fruit. But those flowers do really really in the softest place in everyone's heart bloomed once, but also really left some of the sweet fragrance of the blossom. The shadow of these flowers together with the senior high school brought us, is today we use to see the world with a pair of mature eyes, this engraved will affect us in the future on the road of life, every choice, every decision.

The flowers have bloomed. We recognize or ignore or not, as long as the flowers bloom, it will be undefeated.