Although it was written for myself many years ago, I think it can also be given to many people who love wrong or missed it, to many people who think or have thought that they are the number one fool in the sky, and to all who stand in time and look back. A person who is always alone.
Huakaiwuguo
like cowboy bebop, almost stubborn without a reason. Feeling attached to the woman named Fei is like being unable to extricate herself from narcissism. So I babbled about this story repeatedly, nagging to the point that I was ashamed of my lack of pen and ink.
Sometimes I think, why do you like that woman? Did I find my shadow from her, or did I graft my shadow into her story? Or each of them is a reason. We are similar in our bones. We are originally like a shadow, but my face is a peaceful smile, and her red lips are lazy and charming.
Why do you like that woman? She is not smart enough, not lucky enough. As the heroine, she can't even grab the actor...In her life, every man is ignorant and left in a hurry. No one left a complete period, even memories. It can't be perfect.
The first man gave Cinderella a little happiness. That was the first love. After 50 years of staying in time, she opened her heart for the first time-even if she didn't remember anything, even if she couldn't catch anything, at least that man could walk with her on his back and comfort with a warm embrace. she. After freezing for so long, when finally remembering the warm feeling, he left no trace of debt...
At the same time, thinking of those short-lived happy and dreamy nights, and the red numbers, Philip smiled with love and hatred. Everything was told to a dog—to be honest, its eyes were very similar to him. I didn't expect it at that time, and I will encounter it later. I thought I could miss it forever, the flower that had no chance to produce results...
After a long absence, all the beautiful and touching classic movie-like plots became punctured balloons in front of the truth. Then, instead of hugs with handcuffs, and apologies with bounty, everything is neat and tidy without losing the identity of a professional bounty hunter-but when Fei turned and returned, was there no loneliness?
How can we not be lonely, at that time, I thought such a beautiful flower was blooming such lies and jokes that were not fruit... , Can't mention it anymore.
Sometimes the truth is that there is a ridiculous incompatibility with nostalgia, and you only understand it when you encounter it.
Or maybe there are good men...
the man I met by chance had a gentle smile like a pastor, and he handed him hot water instead of wine. Every time I sneezed, I would say please take care of me... a rare person. , Isn't it? Especially in such a planet and such a city, in such a sky full of wind and snow.
I always feel that those who are bored in my heart and don't even understand me can say to this person-he will definitely listen, smile, and comfort... even if he doesn't understand it, he will comfort him.
What is called loneliness does not necessarily cause a faint pain in the heart, but it will definitely overflow one day and must be told—you must speak. Find such an irrelevant, unfamiliar person with a gentle smile to talk to, just Like hiding in a small room to confess to the priest.
It's a pity that she still got it wrong, he is not a pastor, and he can't even understand his beliefs. He pretended to be indifferent and said that he was not going to beg for death, but everyone knew that it was definitely not a survival.
Such a person shouldn't die, but she can do nothing to stop it, and it is impossible to give him any support for the faith. In this world, who can afford whom, and who can encourage whom? As a person who walked all the way to nothing, she knew this better...
Passing by, the flowers hadn't had time to bloom—how many such scenes would there be in a life of unintentional wandering? How many such meaningless stories are there in the past written by accident?
In the story of unintentional walk, how many such people are there?
It didn't matter in the past-the man who said this was often half-asleep and half-awake. He has a head like a bird's nest, always wandering around in a blue old-fashioned suit, without the slightest appearance of a jade tree facing the wind.
The past is indifferent-time and facts have finally proved that this is the biggest lie and truth. The man's eyes repeatedly reminded that the past will never pass, there is a kind of love that is not hers, not hers.
Have you ever loved that bird's nest head fool? This question is unclear to death. She has never been reserved and graceful in front of him, she has never been kind and sincere in front of him, all her charms are in the same way, only for this man to see cigarettes, beer, disheveled clothes, and carelessly painted nail polish-then, she Do you really care about this man? If you love him, shouldn't you do better, treat him better, and give no one to steal him from yesterday's memory?
It's probably just a partner-this indifferent illusion dissipated in the last gunshot. Don't you regret it, Philip? In the end, he couldn't keep him, and watched him go to death, unable to stop, unable to stop. Suddenly discovered that in front of his old memories, he was actually not qualified to speak-wouldn't he regret it? Fei...
got along for so long, and some didn't say so much. The only emotion that was not expressed was that I needed you, so I thought that no one needed it, and that the important thing was only in the past and the future. Unexpectedly, all the ambiguity would suddenly end, because the period he drew without permission did not have time to continue... The flowers bloomed without fruit, and the ending was just sad, sadness and loneliness that would never be admitted.
If they didn't meet so late, if she was still defenseless and pure as paper, if he was still full of passion at that time, they might be able to...write another story.
The woman is gorgeous like a flower, swaying gently in the glitz of the city, just lonely. That loneliness never felt painful, but it would always overflow one day, and you need to find someone to talk to, you need to find a corner to pick up a wine glass and smoke a cigarette-like a man, like when I was with a certain fool.
At that time, two people sat boringly smoking and drinking, not forgiving.
Later, a man sat boringly, smoking, drinking, talking indifferent things, thinking about things that he didn't know.
Flowers without results, unfinished worries, there are always many kinds of sayings to conceal the kind of sadness that can't be stopped. And those regrets that have nowhere to resolve the slowly accumulated in the bones will always be the most painful in this world, my hatred for myself...
In the hot summer of love, I thought that the most beautiful flowers would bloom, but everything was finally scattered in the wind and evaporated. There seems to be a fragrance left, but there is no evidence in front of him, no results-who can prove that the windy man really stayed and the flowery woman really fell in love on which day and day of the year? What will always be as clear as yesterday, is the left back, not the undercurrent of eye contact...Even if anyone remembers, even if anyone is still attached, time will make those unimportant.
It doesn’t matter, because the past doesn’t matter—maybe this is a lie, but it can also be the truth. As long as you take it as the truth, just keep it in your heart and go all the way.
When the noisy are silent, the trekking arrives, or the noisy is still noisy, the trekking is still on the road, the so-called rendezvous may prove to be just parallel...We have our own stories, the blooming season is lonely, and our lives are long.
The flowers bloomed for three seasons and made a joke, with dumbfounding self-deprecating hovering occasionally.
The flowers bloom for three seasons, and there are no results, and there is sorrow that is not clear in the air.
What do we care about? Do not care about anything, forget everything, why do you miss those only seasons?
At that time, the flowers bloomed, beautiful and moving, and I never expected to have results-although later, I would cry for no results. Some stories are like this, you don’t understand when you read them, and you only remember them after you understand them. Some stories are like this. You don't know when you cry, and you understand that it's not just who is lonely.
It's not just someone who blooms fruitlessly.
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