When I was a child, the lollipop I hated the most was the blueberry flavor, the milk I hated the most was the blueberry flavor, and the most hated filling was blueberry jam. Just smelling it, I feel pungent and sick to my stomach, and even when I see the purple packaged food, I am disappointed and wonder if it should taste like blueberries, right?

Memories are wonderful and mischievous, because then I take it for granted that I hate blueberries, but in fact I am not.

Putting them in the palm of my hand one by one, I feel very small and cute, and I smell refreshing, which is more delicious than the above.

It's just that I was almost deceived by my own memory.

The skill of memory deception is innate, like we are born to eat.

Diary is a kind of boring and very interesting thing day after day, year after year, even if I don't do it, I just record the week and the like, happy or sad, angry or happy, and even, it becomes a "monthly diary".

However, as far as I'm concerned, it doesn't have much of an impact, and in my opinion, if it's not worth writing down, there's no need to force yourself. If it's a valuable story or mood, you don't have to think about it yourself, you just go naturally to find a pen and a book.

It is precisely because you don't wave your pen when your feelings are the strongest, wait, wait, and wait, the feeling is gone, and then you try to recall it, there will be more or less deterioration, maybe blooming a flower of misunderstanding, maybe it will cause a staggering and irreparable consequence.

In this way, we can not unreservedly believe that we have left ourselves a long and ancient memory, if we are deceived, crying and laughing or want to cry without tears, that is, to ask ourselves whether the memory after decoration can be restored?

Will you be like me and lie to myself in the first place?

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