I heard people say that most people start to remember things when they are about four years old. I probably seem to be, but in fact, I can remember very few things that happened when I was four years old, but somehow I put all the things that happened when I was five, six, seven or eight years old in the year of my four-year-old. I have already played the high-level memory reorganization function at the time of things - maybe this will be very proud, and I feel that I have been amazing since I was four years old - for example, when I was four years old, I would sew buttons, although the buttons are of different styles and colors. ; For example, when I was four years old, I would comb all kinds of pigtails for myself, except for the elastic band on my head, which was the best thing to do. For example, when I was four years old, I would go out to the street alone, my parents were quarreling, and I would cry by myself. I stumbled into the road with my nose, and went to my grandmother's house to bring rescue soldiers...
Later, after a long time of memory correction, I realized that except for sewing buttons, I could show off that nothing happened when I was four years old. For example, when I was four years old, it might have been my dad who gave me pigtails. And the incident of crying and going to rescue soldiers happened a few years later. At that time, I felt that the road to my grandmother's house was too long. The child of his father actually asked the reason clearly, and he let me get on the back seat of his bicycle very honestly, and took me to my grandmother's house to rescue the soldiers. According to later adults, I was too bold, so I followed strangers like this. If I met a kidnapper, I would be sold to the valley. So to this day, I am especially grateful to every stranger I have met with whom I have dealt with - each of them may be a wicked person hiding under the mask of kindness, but they have never bypassed the merciful God of Destiny. I stretched out the black hand of robbing money. Let me, a silly girl who has lived in my mother's life to be careful to guard against all strangers and that strangers are bad people since I was a child, but still feels that I can't run into bad people, can survive without any danger, and survive in peace and joy to this day. .
Back at the age of four, although the part of my brain responsible for memory was stunted, I was fortunate to have a vivid and wonderful copy of the original memory - six days younger than me, born in the same hospital as me, playing bare-ass The grown-up god sister actually remembers all the childhood fun things I don't remember! What? Let's break through the obstacles of the adults, overcome the hardships, steal the sugar, and go under the bed to feast on the fruits of victory. What kindergarten teacher led everyone to the toilet together, ran across the kindergarten when he was unprepared, rushed home and hid under the porch, but the teacher who was chasing was like a strong man with his left arm and right arm and the other forcibly taken back... Even when I talk about it now, it's vivid, my mouth is full, and my eyebrows are dancing, but these are not my memories at all - it's all hers, I just heard that at that time, yes, me, it's just.
If it's normal for me to remember late, I don't think it's my shame. But what makes me strange is that I have selective memories since I was a child - I remember the little handsome guy in preschool, remember that the two brothers were occupied by our sisters, and the family belonged to our country (we are the king, queen, prince and princess). What's even more outrageous is that I don't know if I really remember it, or if it was made up at a young age - one day I felt uncomfortable, and my teacher who liked me agreed to let two handsome guys escort me home. Whether they really escorted me, or whether one of them was escorted by the teacher, is impossible to verify now and in the future. What matters is not the veracity of facts, but the beauty of memory. Of course, if it's a choice, let me "raise a chestnut" again - this time it's the opposite - after elementary school, a poor student from a certain class suddenly jumped out and said that he knew me, and said that I was a kindergartener, proud of it. Brilliantly claiming to have bullied me back then. Looking at this classmate whose neck is always stuck at 6:05, I searched my stomach to provoke the anger of revenge, but no matter what, I couldn't remember where I had seen him.
Look, when we were young, we would pick and choose. Those memories of those who were sneaky, who escaped through walls, those who were oppressed and destroyed, which were not conducive to their glorious image, were all abandoned by the little me. If that is a past that is not good enough, why keep it for you! At this moment, I greatly admire my young self who would automatically screen out memories back then. If you had already mastered this technique at the time, it seems that when you grow up, you should become heartless, carefree, positive, and happy...
However, the reality is always cruel. As for how cruel the reality is, we have seen it for all to see and will not repeat it here. Today's chatter is exhausted, and all the officials should wash up and sleep early.
But then again, no matter how sad the memory is, after years of washing, there will only be some clean, soft, and even warm ironing sheets left. This may be because we always become masters of deceiving ourselves in order to survive, and perhaps we haven't encountered the real pain yet.
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