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Memorial

During the vacation before senior three, I made an appointment with many friends: singing together after graduation, rolling the road together, and climbing the sky together. I swore to make up for the youth of senior three years. Then I continued to feel at ease and calm in the depressed time of senior three, full of longing for the summer vacation not far away. In the last month, cheer up and embrace each other, thinking about the blueprint for the future. The real Coming June 7th was hard to fall asleep because of muggy, trivial things and indescribable mood. Think of the encouraging words of friends and pretend that you have fallen asleep. The examination room is an empty shell, and only when you are personally on the scene can you know that the words of optimism and encouragement once existed seem to be a wisp of light smoke, so you can’t control it and watch it drift away gently. Then another real drama was staged, in which someone was happy and someone was worried. Tears, laments and laughter, and happiness contend with each other, ending some people’s bright dreams of youth. Some left, some left. My mother said to me: 12 years later, I finally threw you out. She cried more beautiful than smiled, wrinkles like a blooming flower. Dad didn’t know what to say, just nodded. A good friend became a dormant silkworm, and the failure of the college entrance examination was a nightmare binding her body and mind. We love her, but we can’t get into Iceland in her heart. Watching the gods, begging to care for her, hoping to give her everything good. Keep her quiet, waiting for her to wake up. The world is always divided, and good and bad are intertwined and separated forever. Gradually I forget the change of seasons and the heartbeat of my first love. But I still remember that a man named youth once appeared in my life, cheering and jumping. He loved mountains and rivers, once wanted to be a wandering poet, and once wanted to build a warm home for abandoned cats and dogs. What warms me is the dream, but the reality is cold. The Morning Glory blossomed for a summer and withered in the fireworks of the sunset glow. Youth cannot wait for the dream of tomorrow, and she has no passion to give her the power to continue to survive. I saw it decline step by step, and my breath was gradually boundless in my ears, so I could do nothing. Youth is still gone, and I can’t pull it even if I try my best. Its leaving left a large blank for my life. In fact, I haven’t had time to show my heart to it. I always like it, so deep. However, I can’t open the mouth. I don’t know if only I am so clumsy in the world that I can’t even say I like it. Really, I love my youth so much. But she only slipped past my 18 years old for a short time. Too late to say goodbye.

[Editor in charge: Man Tree]]

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