Fleet of Time

To the hurried year that belongs to us

Time, as always, suddenly stood at the end of youth, looking back along the corner of memory. Only feel that life is in a hurry, not yet, all the stories and plots have come to an end, leaving only those sweet and beautiful verdant in the mind, tender in the fleeting years of light and shadow.

It is a fairy tale to meet the right person at the right time, and the youth who meets the wrong person at the right time forgets where to see this sentence.

These years, we always do not ask the reality, do not ask so, just simple love, simple despair, let a tired heart bear the pain of head-on attack. Now think about it, we were so ridiculous that tears always fall down the corners of our eyes when we recall them now.

We all stubbornly thought that we could stay together with our sweetheart for a long time, we all stubbornly thought that time could not break the friendship with each other, and the promise would eventually come true. But in the end, we found that we were all wrong, young love is so far away, some love has already written the end as early as the beginning, when we are desperate to grow up, we are one step closer to separation.

Some people are really not suitable to walk together, from the moment of birth, God has arranged a road and a play for everyone. Youth is a beautiful episode in this part, which is beautiful because of regret.

I don't dream very much, but I just hate to be in a hurry. Time is like a train running at full speed, leaving an indelible mark of youth on the white and snowy campus.

Looking back, how many times holding a cell phone waiting for a person's reply, how many times looking forward to opening a person's Qzone examination wandering, how many times because of someone's QQ signature change and lost mind, how many times because of a familiar figure turned around and tears. This has gone over the years, how much prosperity, has become a stranger, how many beautiful days, but it is a reflection in the water.

In those years, I do not know how many simple and sincere love were buried in the campus. The boy takes great pains to please the girl, and the girl often passes by the boy's window to deliver a loving look. What she sees under the camphor tree is more of a pair of backs, as well as the posture of sitting together in the campus every time. With the breeze, the music flowing slowly is quiet and beautiful.

Time is like water, always speechless, no matter how many delicate thoughts in the years are finally reduced to ashes, unscrupulous love can support all when young, but can not resist the meagre reality of adults.

Once stubbornly thought that there is a lot of time, tomorrow is very long, but wait until the passing of tomorrow, we find that our proud youth has long been a thing of the past. Youth is like a grand and beautiful fireworks, fragile and so easy to fall, no matter how gorgeous and exquisite splendor is just a glance.

What is love? I'm afraid no one can tell. Only know that the deeper the love, the more painful it hurts. Finally, one day, we grow up slowly under the baptism of pain, and those love without a disease has become an untouchable dream in the distance, and the longing and longing of those flowers and the hasty promises of those floating life also flow slowly in the long river of time, and slowly look back, and the ups and downs are staged in our minds in order. We finally have the so-called once, but also have a lot of stories to tell.

Youth is like a beautiful dream, slowly decomposed by time, some people, in the baptism of time, fade out of our sight to become passers-by, some beautiful scenery also began to drift away, become a symbol in the depths of memory. Along the way, we are constantly wandering between farewell and meeting, the only constant is that life is changing all the time.

The warmth of my first love, the bitterness of parting, and the tears left for love are like an old song that came hastily, giving me a sense of ritual when I grew up. Maybe after many years, we will stand on a different stage, examine the impulses of youth from a new perspective, and think that what has happened is just an episode on our way of growing up, making our youth more beautiful.

Life is like a journey that can only move forward but not backward. We have only one way to go. It is loneliness and memories. No one can hold on to this hurried time, all is just a moment of fragrance, will eventually fade away.

When the leaves of autumn took away yesterday with nothing, when the lonely wind came to a standstill. That bright and dark wound was finally healed by time, and the river of memories ran aground in turn. Push open the false door of the years, I am like the light and shadow in the oblique lattice walking on the edge of dream and reality.

The deep memory of time turns into the clouds and clouds after the rain, and we miss the story in the wind and the lingering in the clear fog. The haste of Qinghuan in the floating world, the promise of immortality, the silent picture, and finally have to pay tribute to it with youth.

In those years, the warmth of first love is like a bright picture in autumn, over the lingering wind and rain, but all the periods seem to have gone away and stayed in the irrevocable yesterday.