I bow my eyebrows and shrink my hands, and all I see is deep soil. I don't know where this road extends. Perhaps the end of the road is the ocean, which is endless and choppy forever. When I stand in the middle of the road and feel the cool black wind blowing by me, I will definitely look up at the deep sky. Blurred blue is like sudden sadness, and the clouds are pale and powerless. I didn't use all my eyes to see what secrets were hidden in the halo until my eyes were sour and I burst into tears. But what can tears represent except cowardice, but all this still makes me very helpless. This is the confusion brought by a drop of tears.

I gently stroked my cheek with my hand, feeling like a thin blade scratched a shallow scar on my face, but it made me feel tired in the face of the faint and lasting pain that ordinary people ignored. I can only turn this pain into happiness that ordinary people can understand. Others see my bright smile and say that I am as happy as an ignorant child, so I can only accept it against my will.

Memories of youth are like clear water in the palm of your hand. No matter how hard we wave, there will always be a few drops left in an imperceptible place, which will shine brightly under the sunlight. When this memory comes too suddenly, whether it's happiness or sadness, it will make your eyes full of tears, and it will always seem too sad and desolate. When we can't wait for the memory to leak all day, and when it dries up, our bodies will stay in the loess.

The love of youth is like a deeply buried river flowing in the body. The lines are complex, but the context is clear and orderly. When the river flows into the brain, the trickle of water will become a song of despair day and night, and the voice will be forgotten tactfully. Looking back on the road I have traveled before, there is always hysterical numbness on my face, and then it becomes the sadness of youth.

I saw the sun leaving a mottled and fragmentary shadow around me, and time was irreversibly lost. Flowers bloom and fall again and again, and spring comes to Qiu Lai again and again. I know that year after year, everything has changed beyond recognition, although it cannot be changed. Finally, one day, I didn't even know what to do with myself, so I let it develop and eventually became a scar in my life. I could only hide in a dark corner from time to time and lick the festering wound. Sometimes I wish it was just a dream. When I wake up, I will still go back to the starting point, but all this is self-deception and self-harm.

In the commemoration of youth, we used too much sadness, withered petals slipped around us and turned into more sadness in the coming year, and all this quietly bred.