I have always believed that time is weighty, and as time goes on, it will weigh more and more on people's shoulders and hearts. Even if it gets bigger, it will press on anything that will stand up in the years, and it will increase its weight from beginning to end. Or we can imagine that it is because one day, I really can't bear the weight of that time, and I will hide in this world forever.

When I think like this, I always feel that the Great Wall, pyramids, poems handed down for thousands of years, or people and things like Peng Zu are great. They have that kind of character, that kind of character that bears the burden of thousands of years and remains calm. Think about it, the phrase "how many things have happened in ancient and modern times, fishermen sing on the third night", and how many things have changed and the years have changed, which has been passed down to this day. It's really not easy, and the burden it bears inside is beyond ordinary people's imagination and reach. I have been in trouble sleeping for many nights, and I have a deep fear in my heart, fearing that I can't bear the desolation of time and years.

The older I get, the more I really realize the burden brought by this period of time. When a girl has passed the age of cardamom, it will be 28 years, and it is not far from being old. Old people's hearts will become less sensitive. Only now, when they are not old, will they truly appreciate the oppression day by day along the way. Perhaps, the saddest thing is getting old.

two

I just went to college five years ago. There is an XF bookstore next to the school. The storefront is not too big, but the professional books are quite complete. We always go to this bookstore to buy books from time to time. I have been there many times, so I know which book is where. New books will be screened out as soon as they arrive. At that time, I didn't need the guidance of my assistant to buy any books. I knew in my heart that I knew these books as well as my assistant.

At that time, XF Bookstore was only a few hundred meters in area, and it was still a semi-basement. The heating doesn't seem to be very good in winter, and the salespeople are wearing heavy cotton-padded clothes. It was very cold when we chose books indoors. But at that time, I was young and healthy, and it didn't matter if I was cold.

Later, the bookstore expanded and moved to the second floor of a building next to it. The whole floor is this bookstore, and the books are much more complete. I used to feel like a treasure, even among our frequent readers. More often, with an ambiguous feeling, I find books on the shelf that have never flowed before. I can't tell which one is the new book.

By the year I graduated, XF Bookstore had occupied three floors of that building, with two floors between secretarial and foreign languages. Every time I go, I have to go upstairs and downstairs, and almost every time I have to ask the salesperson to help me find the designated bibliography. And every time I go, I will feel the richness and completeness of the books here more deeply than last time.

This winter, XF Bookstore has occupied the fifth floor of the building. I will never know every book like I used to, but I will be dazzled and find surprises on every row of shelves. I still often buy new books every week, but I can't find the familiar feeling, as if I know where the books are, and the old position is like a thousand years. When I went to look for it, it was still waiting for me quietly.

It is in this feeling that I caught a glimpse of a book with a very familiar cover, that is, Xi Murong's Time Grassland. I bought this edition of poetry in this store many years ago, and I even remember what attitude and position the book was in at that time. It's a little strange to see it in the ocean of books now.

Only five years later, this bookseller has already expanded his business by a thousand times, but I can't find the pleasure of buying books with confidence in a cramped and familiar space. The air conditioner in the building is very warm, but I still find it a bit difficult to resist the cold outside the window. Time really makes people old.

three

Go back to the old house to pack things at night. That house was where I lived from the age of twelve to seventeen. Later, I went back to live by myself for a while, but my memory always seems to stay at the age of twelve or thirteen, as if the girl who lives in that house will always be the twelve or thirteen-year-old girl.

When I moved away, I couldn't let go of anything in my heart. All my furniture and childhood are left intact in this room. I locked the door, and they seemed to be kept out of time forever. When I opened the door, I immediately returned to the world at that time. So when I am nostalgic, I have a simple feeling when I return to this house.

But recently, that feeling is gone. Those years that I locked out of time are like tents floating in the wind, without any support. The city government is finally going to come over, and the house will be bought sooner or later. Even if I don't buy it, I can't have my apartment in a new high-rise building in the future.

At this time, I realized that nothing can escape the pressure of time forever. Those who escape are only temporarily out of danger, and will eventually return to the changes of time and water and suffer from the erosion of time. Therefore, when I was sorting out my teenage life in the old house, I was also careful. It seems that any diary is as heavy as a thousand pounds.

I found a lot of temporarily forgotten holes, those memories carved on objects. But it was only a long time ago that people were confused, just like a person looking at the stage from a distance through the mist, only feeling some red and green tones and listening to some tunes from music, but never knowing whether it is true or not. But we have to see and listen, just as people come into this world and have to bear the gravity of time at all times.

I just know, originally, my little lock, finally can't lock anything, my twelve-year-old, finally can't be as relaxed as usual and never change. Or it can be said that the sandstorm of time finally blew into the depths of memory through all the beautiful and childish precautions.

four

A few years ago, my mother gave me a beautiful dress, a European fluffy skirt and a big bow. Wear it for a walk at night. That elegant and beautiful skirt will always attract more or less attention. I still remember that evening when I was eighteen, a classmate in college insisted on taking a picture of me wearing that jumpsuit in the cloister. The full moon that day was the fifteenth. I wore that dress and took a photo in front of the Gothic building in the moonlight. This photo is still in my photo album.

Later, when I grew up, I thought the skirt was too thin and inappropriate, so I put it in the closet for several years and never remembered wearing it.

One day in the early autumn of this year, on a whim, I tried on the old skirts in the closet one by one. Every time I try, I can find something in my heart, something lost in the passage of time. When I tried on this dress again, I thought it was a little fat. Maybe I lost weight again. In an instant, the situation of that moonlit night emerged.

The moonlight shines quietly between the porch and the stone pillars, casting a neat shadow, with tall trees and cicadas singing on both sides, the shadows of the trees dancing and cicadas whispering. The wind between the cloisters is neither cold nor hot, but it is very clear and confused. I don't know when it came. I stood between the colonnades and took a picture. Many years later, I never wore this dress again, and I haven't seen that photo for a long time.

The classmate who took my picture is already an independent reporter of S TV. I don't know how many wonderful moments I took. Maybe I forgot that the moon was lost that night, and the figure was strange. Sometimes on the phone, how can I tell him that feeling of swinging like a river? !

This autumn, I began to wear this dress for a walk again. This is an elegant and ancient fluffy skirt. Female colleagues always pay more attention for a few seconds, but no one can see the wind in the corridor under the moonlight anymore.

I can't help thinking that many years ago, Lin Bai had a novel called "The Chair of the Cloister".

five

When I was a child, my grandmother recited poems by word of mouth. I always go to the West Lake and teach me to meet each other in the morning and evening. When I went to Sichuan, I taught me that the river is beautiful. When I went to the north, I taught me that the spring breeze was wet with tears. Therefore, the memory of poetry at that time was always with the mood of playing around.

Later, I studied in the College of Liberal Arts and recited it every day. I copied them in my notebook for fear of forgetting. Before turning off the lights, I lay in bed reviewing my reading materials. So in Hejiang's memory, there is a little eternal green light.

Now when I recall the sentences I recited at that time, I always feel a little redundant, floating between the lines and lingering.

When I was a child, I was taught some old school by my grandmother. Once in a while, I started to write one or two ancient poems. The rhythm is not necessarily neat, but it is only a little interesting and good impression. Finally, the homework left for grandma was handed in. The Chinese studies teacher in the university left such homework again, so he picked up a pen and wrote it down one by one, and gave it to the teacher to evaluate the performance of the course.

Later, I read more books, and grandma didn't have to teach me to recite. After the college Chinese studies class is over, the teacher will not be in a hurry to write poetry. I don't know when my book is full of crappy original works, but I lost it. It took me a long time to find that it was lost. I think these old graffiti will disappear forever.

It was not until my mother found the old book on the dusty shelf in the garage and showed it to me that I found out that I saw these old handwriting again a few years later. Some of them remember, some are vague, and some don't remember at all.

At this time, along with the previous sentences, I always read something unusual, like a Bai Lianhua blooming on the river of time, which once held water in my hand and was full of fragrance. However, suddenly looking back, I found that she was finally "in the middle of the water", no matter how long, she could not return to the upper reaches of the river of time.

With such a state of mind, no matter how naive the handwriting is, it will add a little simplicity and vicissitudes. I have always believed that the word "vicissitudes" does not have to be old. There is a kind of vicissitudes, with traces of time, attached to years and life, whether experienced or not, will exist.

six

In fact, the days have been flying by, but most of the time, I am avoiding the feeling of helplessness in the face of old age. Today, I can no longer cry when I want to, as I did when I was twenty years old. Growth comes at a price, sometimes it's too heavy. It's hard to imagine whether I can't bear to gain weight day by day after ten years.

The drawer under the window on the first floor is locked, which contains my diary from college to today. Looking at those past life and spiritual experiences, I can't help shivering and turning pages.

Almost every page of the calendar in the past few years has been displayed in front of my eyes, every tear, every smile ... time is like water, year after year. After all, I came out in those youthful years and drifted away. At that time, teenagers listened to the rain to express their worries about adding new words, but now it's really time to throw people away, but it's a cool autumn.

When I was young, I always said that study pressure and personal pressure were the heaviest, but when I was old, I realized that time was the heaviest, which made people feel sad and confused. ...