Lonely

Grow up lonely sad people, don’t cry, we are all the same, born lonely. Face every heartbreak with your smile, because we are born Lonely This is a song of uncle Wang Feng born lonely. I don’t know why, I always like Wang Feng’s songs very much. Maybe Wang Feng is a singer who writes lyrics with his life, compose songs with his heart and sings with his soul. Or maybe it is because of the stubbornness that I think there seems to be some kind of spiritual thinking between us. It sounds strange. How could a legendary figure standing at the peak of rock and roll have something to do with a little girl with yellow hair. But I really understood my heart from Uncle’s song. Loneliness is full of power! From the innocent child to the ignorant girl, and now I seem to grow into the lonely and silent youth with only a blink of an eye. Maybe time is really like a blink of an eye, so that now I feel empty, often holding such a mentality: a person, a lifetime, always go! Although there are many friends around me, I still feel lonely. How greedy I wish someone could understand me, that kind of understanding, needless to say, no need to do, just a look, or a slight expression, you will understand me. We can talk together, laugh together, cry together, play together, and more often we are silent together, let naked souls communicate with each other, listen quietly to those voices that are easy to be ignored in our hearts! I looked for it, never stopped or thought about giving up, but after all, bosom friends were hard to find. They were in a hurry on the road, and I stood on the crowded alley with weak strength, gradually submerged in the colorful and noisy colorful world. I began to sigh, as if a lost child, helpless but more helpless. I want to shout loudly, where is my one, he or she? When and where can we meet, meet and know each other? I asked myself softly whether you are looking for another self at the other end of the world like me. Looking for you is fruitless, lonely I walk alone on the long road of life. When it rains, I really want to ask whether the city you are in is also raining and whether you have an umbrella? But I held back, because I was afraid that you said you didn’t bring an umbrella, but there was nothing I could do. When it was dark, I was still walking on the road. The dim street lamps were flashing, as if the ghostly eyes were pulling a trace of evil eyes. I was afraid, so I kept walking, but I didn’t know where to go. In the dark front, is there a familiar and strange figure? I, tired and tired, could not move forward any more, and forgot the direction of returning to the place where I started. I could only stand here, crouching down and holding my knees, and began to sob gently. Tears streamed across my cheeks, leaving only mottled tears. At this moment, my slightly quivering shoulders just matched my trembling heart. The world is still prosperous and beautiful, and I will not stop running because of my crying. It is just that my sadness of one person and one world is gradually lost by the world on the way to the more noisy. Dragging my tired body, I slowly came to the Blue Lake. Facing the rippling water, the calm and restrained water, and a little rippling in my heart, my eyes couldn’t help becoming gentle, we cannot bear to break the peaceful world of lake water. I can’t count how many days and nights I have fallen in love with you. Your quietness, your beauty and your gentleness all make me love you deeply. I want to plunge into your arms, feel your tenderness and comfort my restless heart because of you. I want to see what the underwater world looks like, whether there is my bosom friend, whether it is similar to the garden in my dream? But my friend said to me: there is also you in the water, don’t let her disappear! I didn’t understand, but finally I smiled, stopped my steps slowly approaching the center of the water, looked at another me, and smiled. The world is still the world, and I am not the original me. Now I am still lonely, but I am no longer looking for you in my dream. Now I know how to bear loneliness, feel loneliness and enjoy the loneliness that only belongs to me. I believe that loneliness is the best time to talk with myself. Only through it can we truly understand the meaning of life and live alone! Sitting quietly in the library, holding a book braving the fragrance of light books, reading carefully word by word, immersed in the author’s pen tip and learning the author’s way of survival, to comprehend the author’s soul and thought. This kind of loneliness is not a kind of luck, learning, feeling and growing in loneliness! It is said that the process of growing up is painful, maybe it is right, just like the pain of breaking cocoons into butterflies is the only way for small caterpillar. In order to become a beautiful butterfly, what about sleeping for a while, just stand on the world with the most beautiful attitude for the future self. At this time, I was just an ugly caterpillar. Loneliness turned into a pupa shell that bound me. When I broke my pupa, it is bound to flash its own light in the vast sea of people! For the light, are you willing to be lonely? Maybe you on the other side are also lonely, with no social atmosphere of the world in your eyes, only another one can watch the flowers bloom and fall quietly. Maybe we are all the same. We grow up alone but stubbornly. We gradually know how to hide loneliness and learn to grow up in loneliness! Do yourself well, ignore the noise of the society, hurry up and learn more survival skills. One day, we will meet the best of ourselves at a certain corner! From tomorrow on, I would like to be alone to make this chaotic life simple. Stop and go, look at the world, wander towards the distant place with the song of uncle, I feel my whole body is full of strength, and I understand that loneliness should also grow stubbornly! I know, in this world, there is another person waiting for me, just like waiting for him, always lonely for him. No matter when, where, anyway, I know there is always such a person. Therefore, I am growing up lonely now! Like (prose editor: drops of ink become wounds) the snow in spring

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