A three-day holiday originally planned a lot of things to do, but in the end, I always found out that I hadn't had time to do one of the planned things, and three days passed quietly.
Time is always so urgent, it seems that it has never been enough. Days go by day by day, always telling myself that what I have done today can still be done tomorrow; people I meet today can still see you tomorrow.
However, many things, many people, forever, turn forever.
At the end, life is like a drama, no matter whether there is an audience or not, I have to, and must, use all my life to work hard to bloom, even if it is only open and self-defeating, I have to do everything, because that is only mine Only.
However, it cannot be done in the end. The end is always a bland woman. In order to live, work hard and go to work every day and night; there will be small emotions at the end, there will be pessimistic thoughts, different words to the same person in different places; the end will also be for the beloved man , Go to the palace of marriage, and then worry about the children, for the sake of salt and oil. Although, life is unique and can only be completed by one person; although, whether it is wonderful or not, if it can, it must bloom. However, at the end, she was just such a woman, bland. Life is probably like this, at the end is willing to do so, there is no glorious age, only time is quiet.
But now, sitting in the car leaving my hometown and watching the scenery outside the window, we suddenly realized that this is just my life. Pieces of pieced together notes, played continuously and ended. Then, everything is perfectly presented in an instant, just like a lotus flower, exhausting life, just for an instant existence. In my mind, all the scenes appeared one by one, lively, then quiet, disappeared, and finally forgotten.
Taking a walk with my mother, staring at the bright moonlight under the stars, dazed, I have not seen such a soft moonlight for a long time. The mother said, "Do you remember? It was probably when you were seven or eight years old. We had such a night. We walked together. The moon is very round and bright. You look at the moon in a daze, and say something in your mouth. The teacher asked to write a composition for the moon. You don't know how to write ... "Mom smiled softly," You probably don't remember, right? After all those years. "
Dear mother, I remember, I still remember, such a nightclub circling in my mind, bright moonlight, sparse stars, dimly dim in a few trees that could not be named. Mom, I clearly remember that the moonlight shone softly on your body, the light emitted, with a layer of transparent sadness. Mom, I always thought it was just a dream, a recurring nightmare, and it wasn't until today many years later that I knew that it actually existed.
Mom, that's probably how life is, so many things are like that. If you missed it, you missed it. After waiting for many years, you found that you had lost the original truth, but were dimly imprinted in each other's heart, and kept thinking about it. Is it because some things, once missed, are the last in a lifetime, and are cherished?
In this world, no one will stay for whom, time will still pass. After many years, the beauty left only for us to mourn.
So, since everything is gone, what am I obsessed with? If I keep typing on the keyboard, what do I need to write down? Or what to leave? Maybe, after many years, what I can know is only recorded by my heart. Bit by bit. Perhaps the only thing I can remember is that in this car away from home, in front of this dark glass window, the tears on my face brought me a little warm and cold feeling.
The train is moving at a high speed, and I calculate the time and the distance little by little. As I get farther and farther away from my home, my heart is getting stronger and stronger, and I all say that Qiushui is clean and Qiuyun is unintentional. Shouldn't this autumn be quiet? Bai Luomei said, "Qiuhe is still here, but it ’s just the end of it. And we do n’t have to insist on packing up the ruined scenery, because time still flows proudly. We always believe that everything exists with a mission. Its own strength. Given the fixed number of events in the world, we should calm down and live with the landscape. "
However, at the end, I still couldn't let go of my heart, and I couldn't like the blue grass like Bai Luomei.
This fall, the leaves are so hurried, so gorgeous and calm. What kind of mentality does it face in the face of death? What kind of encounter is the sunset afterglow?
Time will still pass away, the beauty left behind, who will sacrifice it?