Essays

One I am an introverted and low-key man, who is speechless and clumsy in expression. Sometimes he is silent and calm, and even gives people the feeling of being dull. But I don’t know when I started to write casually. Years are long, unconsciously, a few not long experiences are brewing and forming. Excited, he read aloud over and over again, and felt that his own things were so kind, so he danced happily and was excited. Watching and pondering, all kinds of scenes related to these words will flash at a time —- lonely four seasons in the mountain area, locked in a wooden barrel house, I will sit and write for several hours, it is really incredible to think carefully. These simple words are indeed not the crystallization of one day or two days. Looking back on the vicissitudes of life, several calendars were dense, several 365 pages, each page was classic, and there were more than a dozen heavy diaries. In this way, I went from scrawling and crooked to the present. After several years of struggle, I vaguely saw the resplendence of the literature Palace. I often see many great writers publishing books and telling stories about themselves and books in their preface. I like that feeling so much, just like standing on the podium with bright lights and saying a series of thanks to the microphone: Thank God, thank you for several books of northern literature, thank you Yu Qiuyu, thank you for self-examination, for all the books I have read that moved me and have not touched me, for the night, for the time, for my body, for the cigarettes that accompanied me, I know their souls are still paying attention to my words. Huddling in the bed, I have heard pieces of applause countless times in illusion. I don’t know what these upside-down languages will become in others’ eyes, but I can’t control so much. Let others talk about it. After all, it is drawn by my own hands, at least I have touched the world (myself). I deserve it. There is no blank memory of my life history in the several stars of vicissitudes, at least there are traces of boredom and emptiness. Some people say that time is a cold and extraordinary swordsman in the world. When the blade passes, all heroes and scumbags are ashes, and the length of life will not obey people’s will. I was afraid that when my passion and flesh were exhausted, I was still empty-handed. Instead of that, I might as well leave these broken things behind, because it records the countless real seasons in my young life that make me feel excited, and explains the most direct touch in the heart at that moment. I dare not expect others’ encouragement, because the pothole I walked all the way has created my psychological quality of not being shy. Confidence and ignorance and fearlessness have moistened and encouraged me. If you want to criticize, please approve it. Don’t worry, I won’t fall down, because your criticism will definitely give me soberness and supervision. I have made all my psychological preparations, I have even used it for myself because I am overconfident and boring. As long as you speak for my article, I will thank you. I understand: the healthy growth of a life requires two extreme assertions, people should face the capricious humiliation and favor bravely when they are alive. The road is stepped out, history is written by people, and every step of people’s actions is writing their own history. There is a fixed number of how many words a person writes in his life. Once he writes, it should not be wasted. When it comes to my life, I was once occupied by a long period of suffering, which is unique, boundless and unspeakable. Only when I was lonely and lonely, I cursed fiercely that the 21st century called substitute teacher would come into being. I used to think that if I had a second choice, would my life be different? Of course, this is a proposition without positive solutions, because there is no second time in life. It is just that there are some boring thoughts like this, and the integrated words often jump in front of us. Every time I sit in a messy room and write these inexplicable things, even I don’t know whether to vent or pour out. I always delusion that if someone sees them, will they understand this loneliness and be moved? Will you cry like every time you read them? I think for some viewers who live in such a busy society, for some people who don’t know loneliness and suffering, they will be naive and worthless. Indeed, I lived around myself in an ordinary and small way, without any earthshaking and ups and downs, and never saw the life of a noble family. Opening my experience, there was only an endless depression. It was just a caterpillar who ate tens of thousands of volumes of books and a footer crying in loneliness. It was not qualified to feel and write, it’s just that the mentality of self-entertainment supports me. I just want to simply sketch the path of a worm walking. I am so small, and the pen in my hand is even smaller. Injustice has made this world become hot and cold. Inferiority makes the image of insects ugly and wretched, so the pen in my hand trembles and cannot be publicized, the image outlined is inevitably extreme and tricky, and some problems can only be superficially left here after all. But I said to myself happily: I finally did something that others could not replace. The third hobby writing started from an accidental opportunity. I remember that I was only forced to write an article about hydrology for my students. After thinking a lot, I woke up my interest in writing, and from then on, it was out of control. Endless I wrote many letters and diaries about myself, but so many were all tragedies, just for myself. Sometimes I feel very funny when thinking about it. The composition assigned by the teacher often makes people nervous and never gets praise once. Occasionally, I would not believe that I would fall in love with the writings in my school days even if those words that didn’t match each other were killed. It was the king who had one eye in the country of the blind, so he forced himself to the road. I often feel that I don’t know the sense of shame when writing, so I think it is wonderful after thinking a few words in a crooked way, and then I read them to my good friends in a sentimental way. Most of the time, my friends snored everywhere, but I was reading, writing, writing, reading. I was intoxicated in the midnight alone. After that, I read those sentences that I once thought were wonderful, which were really dull and meaningless. As time passes, I am like a mental patient trapped in narcissism. I have written a lot on and off, and none of the fragments can be formed. Seeing the energy is greatly reduced, we have to work hard for survival. I often have no chance to write in my hand for several months. I am really sorry for myself if I don’t pick two articles. I used to tell myself that choosing a substitute was a big mistake in my life, but I knew that there was no turning back in life. It was useless to complain. Sighing and crying would only hurt myself, I can only choose to dry my tears and march forward bravely. Persistence means victory, giving is proportional to harvest. These things called Truth have been thrown away by me for countless times and picked up from the ground for countless times. Struggle and persistence have collapsed for countless times, he stood stubbornly from the original place for countless times. Now, when I still persist in fighting in this place called Qingfeng primary school, holding the heavy fruit called becoming a regular worker in my hand, I wholeheartedly, racking my brains and serving more than ten teachers and more than 200 students with a vision called principal, I suddenly felt that God was caring for us, it was he who insisted on shaping the miserable people more solid, so he deliberately put me into this rough and tortuous way to hone me. The traces left behind for more than ten years were crooked and touched, those twists and turns and efforts are actually my greatest wealth. It turns out that suffering is cultivating me deliberately. It teaches me what is strong and what is hard work, here I salute them respectfully! Like (prose editor: Jiangnan wind) the snow in spring

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