Never folded flower Flower has charged

I went out late this morning, so I was alone. Therefore, I have more leisure and look at the surrounding environment. A few days ago, it was just a flower bone. Magnolia, which just bloomed yesterday, has withered for some reason today, leaving only part of the flowers alone on the branches. And the petals scattered on the ground were also stepped into different colors, changing from the bright white before to the dark red of depression now, which made people feel inexplicably regretful and sad. I originally thought that taking advantage of these days, I would take a few photos as a souvenir, but it was a pity that it didn’t last long. It was just the blink of an eye that made the beautiful scenery so desolate. People often say that it touches the scene, but now it can be said that flowers shed tears. I don’t think I am the kind of person who is particularly emotional, so I won’t sigh just because of the falling flowers. Maybe there is something in it, think carefully about what kind of feelings buried in your heart make people feel so emotional. Is it the sadness of the passing of time?? This is unlikely, because I have never been a person who especially cherishes time, and I am mostly numb to time. What would it be? I thought about it carefully, maybe it was the cherish of beauty. I always have a kind of extravagant hope for beautiful things, hoping that they will last forever and be looked at by me forever. I never like to hold beautiful things in my hand, just like the Magnolia. I generally don’t like to take it off, because I am afraid that it will wither early if I take it off. I have a kind of inborn unconfidence and cowardice for beautiful things, I always feel that I will not protect them well, and I always think that they will be destroyed in my hands. Instead of this, I ‘d better let them stay in their original positions, and I will quietly appreciate them far away. In this way, my heart will appreciate the comfort point. Once I hold it in my hand and put it in front of my eyes, my heart will always be heavy. I just worry about it, and then I have no mood to appreciate it, this is what I don’t want to do. Far away and quietly, I won’t let them find me, and I won’t disturb them, which is nothing more than the most peaceful and relaxing happiness and enjoyment for me. But I had no choice. Although I didn’t pick them up, there would always be someone to pick them up, or no one to pick them up, there would always be wind blowing them down, and they would still wither and wither. Sometimes I am thinking, if only time could stay, then I will not worry about withering; Or they are painted flowers, always stand proudly on the branch with a blooming attitude. It is a pity that all these are not as people wish. Whether the flowers are blown down by the spring breeze or picked away by others, I will regret, I think since it is a beautiful thing, why should we take it away? Why not let them stay in the same place and everyone can appreciate it so much. Maybe this is a selfish thought, because those flowers may not just want to stay on the branches all the time, or their destination is not in the branches, but somewhere else. Because they are both beautiful, but after all they are still flowers. Flowers have the idea of flowers, and flowers have the life of flowers. I can’t set their own path for them according to my own preferences. Whether to pick or not, the flowers will wither eventually, which makes people contradictory. The withering after picking makes people blame themselves, and the withering after missing makes people regret. Until now, I found that the previous sadness not only contained the lament of beauty passing away, but also contained a kind of entanglement and contradiction that could not help falling away. Sometimes looking at it from a distance may make you feel happy easily, but you can still feel the sigh hidden under happiness and happiness by carefully perceiving it. The ancients said: there are flowers that can be folded straight and must be folded. I have never experienced the feeling of unfolding branches, but it should be almost the same as that sigh. So sometimes it is inevitable to be pessimistic. Since they can’t escape withering, regret and self-accusation, why not think about how to bury them after withering so that they can lie down safely. (As a coward, most people think about this) what they like best is still written by a writer: burial? No, the soil is too dirty; Cremation? No, the fire is too ruthless; Water burial? No, the water is too wandering; Yes, only by burying them in my heart and using the ribs as their deep fence can I feel at ease…. Things in the world are always like this. When you go to pick, you have the worry of picking. When you look far away, you have the regret of looking far away. There has never been any happiness without responsibility in the world. If you want to have a kind of happiness, you must suffer another kind of pain. I want to one day, for the happiness brought by beauty, maybe I will bear that responsibility on my back. But now let me watch it quietly.

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