It’s almost the final exam, and when I wake up in the morning, I can’t seem to recover from the sad and joyful dream all night long. It shocked me to such a degree that the heroine is so calm, dexterous, and brave, the hero is so genuine, loving, and real, and the father is so humorous, witty, and cute, but apart from these, there must be many bright spots— - The light recorded on the screen, so I decided not to go to the study room in the morning and watch it again. . .
What is love? Love is the belonging of a family in the vast world. Love is a peaceful harbor that tolerates turbulent waves. Love belongs to the heart, and love is the guardian of the heart. No one is looking, no one is longing, no one is expressing, no one is trying to understand this eternal problem. It's just that very few people can clearly understand (although sometimes a little confused), only a few people can perform it perfectly, and only a few people can cherish and protect this love, this love. . .
It's mysterious, it's sincere, it's joyful, it's heartbroken, it's swimming between you and me, it fills the universe, it's illusory, you're always too unpredictable, unsure, uncontrollable. . .
She's gone, she's gone, she's gone, she's taking away hope, she's taking away motivation, she's taking away many, many. But it can't take away his love, her love and their love, those memories, those past, pictures after pictures, yes, these are left by her, or by him, this belongs to her, belongs to He belongs to them, he is willing to block it, this love, this memory. . .
She appeared and answered tactfully, with aggressive questions, dexterous calls, another wonderful love, another magical memory, awakening the dormant, but not withered, things belonging to the magical kingdom, which countless people use It is called by countless names, and it keeps changing its form, but it is still it, mysterious, sincere, cheerful, heartbroken. . .
He left, left her track, and went to another track of hers. The child became her hope, the child became her sustenance, and trust became the lesson of this engagement. How profound should I be? .
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He appeared, the mystery of the blockade, no matter who it belonged to, finally came to her, tentatively, cautiously, and bravely entered this mysterious country, saw, touched, felt, came and went, left Go again, happy, moved, heartbroken, hope, change, the trajectory of love. . .
In the end, I don't want to make a rash comment. It's simply a good or a bad thing. How can we understand fate? How can we understand love? Just like our birth, old age, sickness and death, what is the definite result? For me, everything is about experiencing, being grateful, absorbing and expressing. . .
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