4.15 Friday

In the first English class at noon, I never imagined that the glass on my watch was broken, and it had only been with me for two months.

The watch had fallen off the table before, but it was fine. This time it was broken, but it was still firmly on it, everything else was normal, I wouldn't have put it on the table if I knew it would have been this, and the watch should have been worn on my wrist. There are some things that you don't know to cherish until you lose them.

In the third self-study class in the afternoon, I came back from playing basketball with my tablemates, and when I sat in the class to rest, my classmates passed me two commemorative papers, one for me and my tablemates, and suddenly realized that we were about to separate, and we were about to set off separately. Happily write down the words of my heart and blessings, hoping that this small commemorative paper can carry the friendship of each other.

At night, sitting in the silent class where there are still more than a dozen people, I always have some feelings in my heart.

Now I don't love learning at all, and those promises are a complete irony now.

The dream is not lost, but about the matter of learning, the heart has long given up the reason to persevere. I can bear the consequences of inconsequential results, so I don't work hard anymore. The enthusiasm for struggle has long been diluted with the passage of time, and I have gradually lost my passion and live a life that is still like an arrow. Living in complete numbness, these days there has not been much laughter, and the painful things have not been remembered or have long been forgotten.

I am like a fallen leaf, drifting silently with this last monsoon, and finally tossing into a fine handful of soil.

The wheels of life will not stop because of personal wishes, and when the college entrance examination shuttle bus is speeding to the next stop, how many people get off the bus prematurely or are deeply forgotten and abandoned behind. Tears have always been useless, and everyone must accept the cruelty of the ending. I stood at the door, looking at the sleepers that were rushing by, and I was trying to think about it all the time.

What else can be done when the heart of the initial struggle is a little numb by the polishing of the days? I live like that from morning to night, and when I don't want to listen to all the classes, is there any need for me to stay in the class and struggle? Fleeing like everyone else, having the same plan many times, why did they all give up in the end? What are you thinking? I feel sorry for my family, and like many people, I have failed to live up to my expectations, but who can understand the true inner thoughts of those of us so-called losers? ?

The body may already be covered with scars, do you still have to endure saying that it doesn't hurt, crying and pretending to be strong, sweating in the days, or the ending of laughter, or the tears of heat again? When everything is gone as usual, when the sun can't tell whether it's new or not, everything, everything is dull. can't afford to struggle, it's not that I'm afraid of being tired, but I can't bear the loneliness, I don't want to do senseless resistance, I've already lost to life, do I want to lose to myself?

When you look up at the starry sky, all the stars are hidden in this dark curtain. Where is the answer that you are trying to find? Where is the place of the heart? Will he be able to survive the last darkness before the dawn?