Chapter 025: Resurrection in my memory

I always feel depressed, afraid that when I open my mouth, I will lose my spirit, or even lose my anger, I am always silent, as if I have practiced closed-mouth meditation.

The night solstice is very deep, and the kitten catches the rice moth flying all over the house by my side, and I don't sleep and wait.

I know that when I get up to the point where my head is as big as a bucket, and when it sinks like a mountain, it will fall asleep and become another me, and then it will sleep with me, warm my chest that is very prone to cold, and lick the corner of my eye.

But he didn't stay with me for long, and he didn't have a rain dam—so it was drenched! Maybe my pile of paper ashes had turned into mud before it turned to dirt.

One day, he will be resurrected in my memory, and will he still recognize the future person who is also me?

When I fell asleep and my mind was as light as nothing, I suddenly remembered that the rice moth that was summoned by my light and fluttered all over the house by the kittens was also me!

My spring moth design is divided into: shelling (peeling from the sea→), larvae→ pupa knotting→ moth flying → laying eggs, and then it should be "my eight leaps".

My current stage is the "chrysalis" stage. (I think of the Eight Leaps and the 'Sculpture of Completing Life' after stepping out of our world.) ）

I loved writing so much that after twenty years I broke out of my shell and grew into a larva, like a life, so I began to crawl on the road of literature, waiting for the chrysalis and the moth to fly.

Twenty years is too short, and I am too immature. How nice it would be if I had someone to advise, talk about, and get the help of mature people in the hope of getting a shower of cultivated rain!

If so, I am satisfied!

Over the past eight years, I have worked hard to accumulate a lot of materials, about people, about things, about society, about the future, for which I failed to become a linjiao in my homework, and for this reason I was awkward and awkward with my friends, so I made up my mind to leave the crimson door of the school, but in less than a month after returning home, most of it was ruined, and the whole thirteen books and a lot of bits and pieces!

What can I do? Angry, Death?

I think I'm going to be able to write a thesis that can write a great thing before I come back! How many years will it take to get back even half of the information?

On August 14, 1987, there was a transcript

I can tolerate anything, but the most unbearable thing is groundless suspicion and unjust speculation. That's why I just said a few more words last night, so please don't be angry.

Everyone is inevitably suspicious, and I am a particularly susceptible person. It's doubtful that I deserve it, and I won't complain about anything.

I didn't talk too much about myself, about my illness, about my studies, about my objects, and so on.

I just want to sue someone, I'm not the kind of person who cheats people because of money (for Yi He, I once went far away and asked for directions to Brother Yueyu's house to borrow 10 yuan,).

With my situation, constitution, and ability, what joy is there to talk about in life? I really have nothing else to do but repay my debts, and I really have no other purpose to talk about life.

I told myself that as long as I lived, I would live up to my debtor, and this was the moral integrity of my only business (i.e., to repay my debts). I'm not going to be so bad as to fake everything that pays back ten dollars. Brother Yueyu can be said to be my great benefactor, and I won't be sorry for him.

I heard that you turned your mind to talking to me, don't do this ridiculous idea for me, don't waste your efforts. You and my mother didn't threaten me with nurturing grace, and you are the people I am most grateful to. Please think more about your own well-being, why bother me too much except that I can't overwork myself for a while and need a little personal time?

I should be one of the lucky ones to live happily at home this year.

Only when people are angry, sad, and disappointed can they truly mature.

ripe, some are steamed by idle air.

Excerpt from a text message dated August 13, 1987.

What happened next was not a trivial matter, and he ran away from home on a starry night. Not for anything else, not just wronged, but also for the father's ignorance and distrust of his son's ability and his judgment based on assumptions.

The cause is very small, when my father was harvesting cotton in the evening, he found that there were a lot of water droplets sprinkled on the velvet drying on the side of the road, and he blamed it for sprinkling it when he was carrying water, and Shengsheng flatly denied it. Although he was only thirteen or fourteen years old, he had already developed the skill of carrying water and spilling as much as he could out, even if he picked up the top of the mountain, it was a full bucket, and this level was already above all the male laborers, including his capable father.

Even if it is sprinkled, it is only a few drops, it is absolutely impossible to have so many, and when he passed that section of the road, he was already very careful, he always walked the bucket in the direction of the road, and his bucket would not sweep over the cotton wool at all, so he could guarantee that it was definitely not the water he spilled.

At this age, other boys haven't even touched the bucket, but Shengsheng has been working with the prime for a long time. With these, he has to be bitten by red mouth and white teeth, but he wants to wronged you, do you think he can feel sad in his heart?

The attitude of the father who couldn't stand it the most, such a fierce look, slapped him a few times, and wanted him to admit it.

He didn't do it, and of course he couldn't recruit him if he was beaten, otherwise he would still be a man? Of course, he was a man, and he ran away at night and hid in Tibet, not afraid at all.

The whole family went out to search, and there were many relatives and friends, and the shouts resounded through the ravines and ravines, and resounded one ditch after another, but no one was found. Where is Shu Sheng hiding? I have to refer to the article "No. 023: The Injustice of the White Body"