文/时光
Memory is a long corridor, one end is connected to the past, the other end is connected to the present.
The experience along the way is the paintings inlaid on the gallery, going back to the past along the dim passage. Everything in the past is vivid, but it has long lost its vivid color.
Staring at the painting called love, in the frame, your smiles and smiles will always be fixed on the day you say goodbye. The moments of staying together seep into my heart, like November’s The rain and the cold are biting.
Memories are the most cruel. It will turn the goodness of the past into a weapon for self-harm, and when touched, it will be bloody and bloody.
The naivety of the past seems to be very ironic now, why are beautiful and pure things destroyed and corroded in time?
Only the pain became a snowball that grew bigger and bigger in the blizzard of time, and finally crushed everything. Wrapped in the soul fell into the abyss.
all say that mutual torture in this life is to repay the debts owed in the previous life. Then the previous life must have committed countless sins that will allow this life to bear such punishment.
If you really owe you in your previous life, what you have suffered in this life may be able to wipe out the past.
Maybe the end of the corridor of memories is connected to another world. I only hope that when life arrives there, everything in the past can be remade and cast a new afterlife.
Once, the day I met you, I suddenly believed in love.
In happy times, love is a delicious candy, leaving a sweet taste on the tip of the tongue.
Later, on the day that we said goodbye, I started to fear love instantly.
In the lonely time, love is a hot red soldering iron, which burns painful scars in my heart.
It is said that time will heal all wounds, smooth all scars, and ease all pain, but no one has said how long the treatment is.
has been convincing myself to believe in time, until this unbroken wound has become a part of life, until this heart-piercing pain has become a habit.
It turns out that the truth that time heals everything is self-paralysis.
If you can have a Doraemon, you must sit on its time machine, go back in time, and tell yourself not to meet you.
If you can become the protagonist in a Korean drama, encounter an accident and lose all your memories, so you can completely forget you.
But life is not a wild cartoon, not a clichéd TV series.
There is only one sleepless night after another and the self who is always unsatisfied.
Sometimes, time seems to have stagnated for a while, everything around it seems to be added with slow-motion special effects, the pain in the heart is infinitely magnified and stretched infinitely, and the whole world becomes a bizarre Nightmare field.
But at other times, time seems to be fleeting, and I was just sitting in front of the window and looking at the clear sky. It was the willow on the moon in a blink of an eye, as if someone had stole time inadvertently.
In this life, I didn't get right results in love, and I didn't live my life well, leaving too many pains and regrets. It wasn't that I didn't work hard, but I couldn't defeat my destiny after all.
I once wanted to reach the other side of happiness, but deviated from the course again under the impact of the flood of fate. The trajectory of life was completely changed. Fate washed away the hands that clasped you, and was lost in the world.
It is true that there is a beauty that is imperfect, but when the imperfection is too big, where does beauty come from? Life has become a window with a big hole, which cannot stop the roaring wind and the pouring rain.
This bad life, I don’t want to do it again.
If there is an afterlife, be a tree and stand for eternity without sorrow and joyHalf of her posture is peaceful in the dust, half flying in the wind; half falling in the shade. Half bathed in sunlight. Very silent and very proud. Never rely on, never seek.
If there is an afterlife, it will turn into a gust of wind, and it will become eternal in an instant. No feelings of kindness, no passionate eyes. Half free and easy in the rain, half traveling in the spring; lonely. Go on a long journey alone, take away all the faint thoughts, never miss, never fall in love.
In the repeated blows of love, San Mao finally chose to end his life.
Some people think that this is the hypocrisy and fragility of the literati, but who can safely escape from the repeated life and death farewells with the lover?
devotes everything to every relationship, but all are cut off by the hand of fate, how desperate.
Maybe some tragedies are doomed by nature. Optimism is vulnerable to reality. Destiny has 10,000 ways to step you into the dust and mud.
Day and night, I hope that this life will end in an accident. The end and the afterlife sound so beautiful and alluring.
When you set foot on the road to the future life of Huangquan and reach the Naihe Bridge, you must ask Meng Po to serve a bowl of the thickest Meng Po soup, wash away the past and forget the love and hatred in your heart.
In the next life, if you don’t see each other again, if you see each other, you will be relatively unknown, like two flying birds gliding in opposite directions, their tracks are lightly staggered, each towards the distance.
