When I was young, I pretended to be sad and really happy. My youth has passed away, but I have become pretending to be happy and truly sad. Wandering in the ocean of words, some words hurt people. Turning it over, what hurts people is not words, not others, but the heart that he can’t stand cheating. If you are truly happy, happiness is everywhere. If you are sad, sadness will stick to you like a child and play with you. Some words can’t even be understood by myself. The traces of time only take away some complicated things. The ones left to accompany you are always there, and the ones taken away can no longer be remembered reluctantly. The habit from the rebellious period to the upcoming adult period was too overbearing, and even became a trace that could not be wiped out in the whole life. At that time, lying on the bed was full of passion, and the endless reverie spread, but it became boring when I felt it. Young people until 30 years old are used to remembering the days from time to time and recording some thoughts and their own stories concisely. Once upon a time, I hated the diary inexplicably, and I couldn’t afford the idea of continuing. Now it is also very embarrassing. The reason is that I love playing, making troubles and keeping diaries, which makes me sad and joyful tea tasting place. A bigger diary becomes an extension of the habit, and a bigger diary is a reminder of your idleness. Because I was afraid that I would run away when I saw my experience, and the diary began to feel wronged and dared not touch me. But now I want to get close to me in a diary, but I have been disgusted by the diary. Sometimes people begin to doubt whether they are too self-protection consciousness, or they dislike themselves, which makes them lose their passion. When I was young, my eyes were ignorant, but my heart was sharp. Now my heart becomes ignorant, but my eyes are bright. I really don’t know which one is the real self. In China, you can graffiti freehand brushwork at will. I want to go there. Take some chalk with the child and take his wife to graffiti freehand brushwork. Let my children learn what romance is from now on, but in my memory there is never a wall that can provide graffiti freehand brushwork. Even if there was one, it seemed that it had long been forgotten in the dark corner, in the stinking sewage ditch. Only the people before 80 had such an impulse. I always want to go far away to find the arbitrary place of the soul that can be graffiti at will, but I am struggling to find a place that can be curled up. The red armbands on the street, the big brim hats patrolling around, and the old and old ladies scanning everywhere in their eyes made me timid with the omnipresent hostility. I can’t pick up the chalk that I want to be free at all, graffiti and sketch my impulse and reverie. Occasionally, with the shelter of sunglasses and the confusion after drinking, you can finally show your instinct to vent your throb. Pee towards the dark unknown field. But it was immediately welcomed, and the pet strolling in the field was roaring like a freak. Shock and Terror evaporated the vagueness in my heart. After waking up, I felt a sense of heaviness. I dared not drink any more, and even dared not to cheer myself with sunglasses. Reserved, cowardly, timid, cautious and meticulous became the sorrow I portrayed in my heart. Unable to impact the walls of morality and law, and even more afraid to do the so-called evil things.

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