It's a shame, I cried halfway through this chapter, and I made up the story of the winger, but I was so moved that I was in a mess, especially when I wrote the paragraph of returning to my parents, I couldn't help myself and burst into tears.

Some people say that people who have not cried in the middle of the night are not enough to talk about life.

Although I have done it more than once, and he meows to touch him deeply, but I still can't agree with this, everyone's life belongs to their own, naturally they have their own different views, don't cry in the middle of the night can't talk about life, this is obviously very nonsense, people with low tears may have to cry once every night, crying for a long time Wouldn't it be able to preach?

Of course, this is just a kind of goodwill complaint about the surface meaning, and I have also deeply experienced the helplessness and heartbreak behind these words.

The winger felt the regrets, guilt and kindness of his life only when death was approaching, and I felt it in the dead of night when I wrote this story.

I have to say, a lot comes to mind.

Grandma is the person who loves me the most since I was a child, she was rebellious when she was young, and I never listened to anyone's words, but only her old man's words, I will never disobey. My grandmother died at the age of eighty-one, which is considered a long life, and I was already in my twenties at the time, and I was in tears, but I did not cry bitterly.

Until late one night a few years later, I suddenly inexplicably recalled the bits and pieces of the time I spent with my grandmother when I was a child, remembered that I was busy with work and all kinds of chores all these years, and rarely went back to visit her old man's home.

But the result was that before leaving, she specially instructed her aunt that she kept the dozens of yuan of change that should be distributed to her three grandchildren according to custom, and gave me a little more.

Thinking of this, my tears suddenly stopped, buried in the quilt and cried, I had never cried so sadly in my life, even ten years ago when my mother had a sudden cerebral hemorrhage and was dying, I had never cried like this.

And as I write this, tears still linger.

I believe that many people have had a similar experience, loved ones, especially the elderly in the days after their death, are generally not too sad, and when they think about it late at night, they realize what it means to be heartbroken.

I wrote these out, not to earn you tears, but just because I suddenly understood this truth and didn't vomit or be unhappy.

In two years, I will be thirty years old, and I have not achieved anything so far, and there will naturally be no fewer people who have owed it, but I have rarely returned it, let alone the Dripping Grace Spring, which is the kind that has failed to live by today's standards.

However, I am still looking for all kinds of reasons for myself, I have no background, no capital, no skills, and I want to rely on online articles to make a living, but I can't even guarantee basic updates.

At some point, I was disgusted with myself like a winger, and I was determined to be angry and thank those who had looked down on me with a beautiful report card.

The facts of the past few years have proved that I am only smearing the walls with feces at most, not working hard enough, not paranoid enough, and not relieved enough.

So, from today onwards, I really have to write a book seriously.