Chapter 282: Can't Wake Up (10)

Occasionally look up and smile at the clouds in the sky. Pen @ fun @ pavilion wWw. ｂｉｑUｇE。 infoAt that moment, I will think of you inexplicably. The familiar past is still vivid. It's just that I don't know that the curvature of the corners of the mouth is still not what it used to be.

I'm used to the days without you, go to work and get off work alone, live a constant life, boring but very fulfilling, and start to enjoy this comfort. Those days of suffering from gains and losses, and being crazy about you, are far, far away. I've been dreaming about it for more than a year, and I've written stories about you and me in my dreams. I naively made a bet with my youth, but gambled everything into a memory. At the end of the story, you didn't be able to anchor your heart at my station. As a kind of belonging. I'm also used to accepting reality because I'm powerless to change who I am. Perhaps, in the long road of life, in addition to memories, what accompanies us to the end is loneliness. Finally, the dream wakes up and you are gone.

The other day, tidy up the clutter. I stumbled upon an old phone that I used to use. It hid quietly in the corner, as if crying for its master's forgetfulness of it. How many warm words, how many lingering words, hidden deep in its little soul. It bears witness to the love we have had along the way. At that time, it could only store 180 text messages, and I was one of those nostalgic people, and each one was important to me, so I let you copy it on your computer. In this way, thousands of messages are passed on by you one by one. So much so that every time I recall your helpless expression at that time, I will giggle. Now I have a mobile phone that stores unlimited information, and you have learned to use your phone to surf the Internet, even more than me. But we can no longer find the mood to copy text messages one by one. It's gone, it's really gone. Those small details hidden in the memories will not be easily noticed by anyone in the future.

How much love and hate in the world have been polished in the cool years. Too little is in love with each other, too much is forgotten about each other. You have sworn to protect someone for the rest of your life. Turn around. It's like a tiny grain of sand in the dust. Not remembering.

If you are as smart as you, you may have predicted that this love would end without a hitch. Therefore your ifs are as if you are leaving, and you like the new and hate the old. All have a good reason. Actually, you should understand that from the beginning to the end, I never asked for anything from you. You're the one who has failed me. I'm tired, really tired. I don't want to put up with your heat and cold anymore. I don't want to ask you why you suddenly disappeared and appeared inexplicably. I'm used to watching the interaction between you and the beauties in the space, and I'm used to the silence that sinks into the sea after texting you. Get used to not exposing or telling your lies when confronted with them. I should thank you for making me feel so helpless. Good and bad, accept them all. They have beautified my past and enriched my years.

After you left, I was also used to being invisible, used to disguising myself with indifference, used to treating some people and things with an indifferent attitude, used to facing hurt, laughing at accusations, and used to saying "I'm okay" to every friend who came forward to comfort me, and then cried like a child in a no-man's corner. Perhaps, it's because of growth, because of experience. So get used to it. Everyone says that the more you grow up, the more lonely you are, and the more you grow up, the more uneasy you become, so is the so-called uneasiness and loneliness the fault of growing up, or is it a feeling that you dare not face?

Sigh that time is in a hurry, in the depths of the years, looking back. Do you remember me? Or have you forgotten me? The fate that was missed, the tip of the pen that stopped writing, bit by bit, was withered into the past. I'm going to slowly forget about you in my old habits.

Life is like a song, you can't sing the most perfect notes, the past is like hemp, and you can't figure out the shackles in it. The warmth that lingers on the tip of the pen sprinkles a grievance on the paper. I want to hear a word of apologies from you, but I waited and waited, but I was relatively speechless. The once vigorous and vigorous will not be able to reach the passing years. No matter how brilliant the writing is, there is no reason to let love continue.

What I dare not recall is the past, and what I dare not face is tomorrow. Sometimes, we struggle to find familiar scenes, search for them, but we get mired in pain, after all, the story has happened so long that even the memories are cold.

Many of the entries in my journal are about you. But I have written and written, but I have not moved you. I'm not in your habit of being you, and you're not in your habit of being me. You have asked me countless times, "What am I good about?" and "What do you fall in love with me?" Actually, you are not good in anything, but these bad things are very special in my eyes. Maybe in love, no one can say this kind of special.

At the moment when the memory crosses the eyes, pick up the ending of the story and reassemble it. Then fill the blessings with your passing years. Anyway. I wish you health and peace.

In the late autumn when the leaves are falling, suddenly a familiar melody wafts in my ears:

“…… As long as you're better off than me."

When the memories crept into my heart, it was a kind of silence, like looking back after thousands of years, and all kinds of thoughts that came to my heart in an instant made me almost unable to breathe. Outside the window, the sun is shining, the lake is full of spring flowers, my heart, my thoughts are thousands, and my love is lingering~

I couldn't sleep last night, or I missed you too much, and the long thread of memories moved me back to the past step by step, maybe it wasn't before, maybe you and I weren't before, everything was just an illusion. I have seen you countless times in my dreams, and I am worried about my heart. I have forgotten how many nights or days, spent in constant thoughts, and suddenly looking back, everything is the next spring and autumn.

Where to meet in life, or destiny, or popularity, but unfortunately there is no part in the previous life, hovering in the bridge of Nai He turned back several times, did not see, your late figure, helpless, I slowly stepped on the road of no return, drank a bowl of Meng Po soup, I think that this life can forget, forget to cut your past life and look back and smile~ It's a pity that I was wrong, I met again, although it was a lifetime, but I still did not cut off my thoughts about you, let alone pale your smile, between the feet, when I hesitated, I thought of you again, the one who pursued the past life and this life.

My footsteps always seem to come so late or early, and I can't always meet you in real time, so even if we meet again, I can only watch you quietly at the bridge, watch you and him leave, and I, I can't shed tears, for fear that tears will soak the veil and remind you of me; Do not grieve, lest your sorrow penetrate the wall and pierce your heart; I can only hide in the corner, quietly, permanently, and bless you.

If in the spring of the next year, you see the catkins flying, and there are a few thoughts left between the flying, it is a gift from me, may spring be with you; If next summer,

(To be continued.) )