Indifferent winter

In the dead of night, sitting in front of the desk, listening to the sadness and sadness brought by the music, wandering quietly on the internet. You can think anything and think nothing. Close your eyes and the music will float beside you. You can’t say clearly what it will express, or you should secretly tell you something about the feelings in this world, just let your heart pervade the confusion brought by music at will, as if any words are redundant, and every note is written with simple mood. The petals of memory, however, were stained with withered sadness, singing alone, with a sigh, Haggard, slightly hurt in this sleepless moonlight night, broken all over the floor and scattered on the pavilion. It is said that lonely people will not easily forget everyone who has passed through their lives, nor will they clearly delete everyone who gives comfort in their lives, because loneliness can make people can’t help being immersed in memories, so loneliness has color, either purple or red. Too realistic can make people give up many dreams helplessly and induce themselves to grasp the hope in front of them directly. Even if what they grasp is only a grass, it is like getting a forest. At night, it was very soft, and those painful memories also comforted the weak nerves. Noisy Silence, floating dust silence, neon shining the boundless night, unloading the exhaustion of the day, the heart is still wandering in memory, so heavy, so light, so close, so far, so beautiful and sad. The past is like smoke, and marks of different shades are carved in my heart. What should be forgotten is remembered again; What should be remembered is vaguely blurred. It turns out that all existence is just the direction that the heart yearns for. Facing too many beautiful things that cannot be returned, we can only close our eyes and close our hearts, indulge in the bottom layer of the river and break our thoughts. The road ahead, the loneliness you can’t see. The words draw the heart, but you can’t draw the deep love. Dreams are colorful and pale, but they are not beautiful. If there is no memory, looming scars, warm pain, just like this accumulated in the heart, obsession for many years. Looking back on the vast expanse, I was alone, independent and frosty, accompanied by the lonely star of the Cold Moon, and sang with the cold wind and rain. In the clear rhyme of the four seasons, my heart was polished calmly and peacefully. Only the snow in the twilight, the end of the sky, the other side of the sea, may spread endless white, can accommodate the lonely and lonely plain face and clear heart, continue the beautiful fate of previous life, drunk in the eyes, love is in the wisps of smile, from then on, the palm of Heaven and Earth are in touch with each other and go to a happy appointment. Do not want to recall, just your heart don’t know how to back, gazing at don’t know how to take back. This year flower than last red, but next year hua geng hao, know and who. People who have loved say that forgetting is fake. It is also very difficult to go through the road again. We can only face the Blue Sky, the breeze, the sunshine and the rain and dew to make life more flexible and angry, and cover the haze and vicissitudes, even if it is still a piece of light and bright. When exhausted, drink with the moon, let tears flow freely, sing those songs out of tune, start the boundless miss, agitating the dusty love, let the thoughts become fresh, the sleeping life has perception. On the cold winter night, the moon was hidden, the stars escaped, even the wind was silent, and the surrounding was full of strange coldness. When the oath becomes a lie, it is still lingering, but there is only a hopeless waiting and decadent exile. It is hard to hide the exhaustion behind the smile, the piano is melodious and playing despair, and the words are lingering and expressing confusion. The fingertips rise and fall, and the sand beach soaked by the tidal water is damp. Under the Bodhi tree, the bitterness is waiting for the cycle of season after season. In the misty and rainy world, the graceful sadness of the previous life is played. To see how many ups and downs stories and legends of wind, flowers, snow and moon in the world, everything is like, like flying dreams, scattered in the misty distance. If all the scenery can pass by and all the beauty can be abbreviated, can happiness be simple? When you don’t love it, you are lonely; When you fall in love, you are doomed. In this quiet and indifferent winter, I am looking forward to the arrival of a Ruixue, revealing the beauty of quiet and wandering, washing away the dust of the years, covering all sadness, freezing all thoughts, and letting the missing run aground, let everything come back, let the dream come back again, and then listen to a favorite song and fall into the dream in the years of gradual alienation.

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