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Drizzle

Yesterday, this small city struggled in the roaring wind. Today, it is bathing in the drizzle. My dormitory is on the fifth floor. When I open the window, I can see the tall trees in front of me, the table tennis court under the tree, and the cement pavement beside the stadium. In this hazy rainy day, few people pass downstairs because they are afraid of the cold. I still looked out of the window. Everything was veiled in the rain, permeating with hazy beauty. I enjoyed this loneliness quietly, with the sigh of time in my eyes, standing in the breath of rain, wandering in every post station of life, meditation dissolves in the spray and beats the unsunk islands in the sea. Only for this curtain of rain, you can have a lot of reverie, counting the sound of rain kissing on the window glass, you can expel sorrow and annoyance. The Sun lost its light, and the drizzle decorated the world. The rain flew into my heart, soaked in sadness. I have seen many rainy days, but I didn’t watch a rain quietly like today, just like the pain that I learned to cherish after losing. I have experienced so much loneliness that I never need anyone to accompany me. I have been constantly hurting spring and sad autumn under the narrow boxer sky. I lost a little sad memory when time turned to the stars. I painfully found myself in the memory and tried hard to find the silly boy who used to run in the sun. He once made great efforts and made unremitting efforts, he was once full of smiles and passionate. Now, he stood alone in front of the window, looking at the sad rain with sad eyes, sad alone. The former high-aspirations made him understand that he didn’t know how high and generous he was. The unremitting struggle once and again pushed him to the bottom of the valley, and he saw the truth clearly. How many spring and autumn years have I experienced? It seems like a dream. The flowers bloom and let me feel tired and sad. The four seasons of rain and snow make me intoxicated but haggard. Maybe I am too pessimistic, and the reality is indeed like this. Counting the fleeting years, my head is empty. This is not a dream, but what is it? Looking at a curtain of drizzle outside the window, I sighed the ruthlessness of the years and the bitterness of the past. Look back, don’t look at the rain, simply put what you think into your dream!

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