Honey, we're all gonna grow up like this.

When some people tell the stories of their youth, they know that summer is coming. At that time, wind chimes, leaves and sunshine are in the place where you appear every day, with the wind crisscross, you walk alone in the hustle and bustle of life, there are drops of water on the wax, you are unmoved in the wax.

Youth is to be yourself, don't change your mind easily. Don't be afraid of loneliness, don't be afraid of loneliness.

When I was young, my parents went out all day for life, and my brothers and sisters were different from me, so I got used to being alone. I am often accompanied by dumb dolls and green flowers in the garden. I always like to put my brothers and sisters

I put the dolls I didn't want in the vegetation, and directed some self-written plays such as Jungle Adventure, Prince's Vengeance, and Knight-errant Treasure Hunting. of course, dubbing and drama work were all done by myself. The wind sometimes blows the broken petals on my body, face and hair. I pick them up and chew some fresh and clean ones.

Lonely teenagers are all teenagers who eat flowers.

In this way, I entrusted my time before going to school to plants and trees. Look at their growth, slender stems out of large and fragrant flowers, fat red, porcelain white, goose yellow, time seems to be a color palette. There are tiny insects hidden in the grass, flapping their wings and rustling, and in the lower soil should be buried more insects that exchange their lives for lush and glowing plants to time. Dedicated himself, grew out of love, shrouded in all fields, pavilions such as the cover.

The south has always been a favorite place for flowers and plants, and they do not wither and die too obviously in the grace of day and night. Aloe, bluegrass and camellias are in the corner of the yard, and the leaves are as green as ever all the year round. The sun shines on these kind lives, warm and fragrant.

There is a quiet place in my heart, which is also slowly covered with heat.

At that time, I had not written yet, but with the heart of a young child, I simply hid among the flowers to spend a long time growing up.

Countless times, when I heard the roar of airplanes passing high in the air, I expected that my dough-faced person would grow up very quickly, preferably blooming overnight like a pear blossom in spring, and become a person with a firm face, determined eyes and control of his own destiny. I want to get rid of this loneliness, it has followed me for too long, one day, should be released at the end of my sentence.

I want to leave the world I am circling one day, looking forward to it day and night, hoping urgently that I can leave.

Later, time told the young garden that I left.

I began to come to the crowd of the same age, like an animal being looked at.

Get to know some friends, play with them, make noise, run around, thinking that loneliness can disappear and that they can live a happier life. Unexpectedly, I seem to have a sense of self-consciousness to break it all.

Unlike them, I gradually melted into the circle that lost my self-shape, and became a person whose words and deeds, character, ideals and pursuits tend to be similar. I refuse to swear, fight, smoke, drink, play games, play truant, surf the Internet, whistle, sleep in class, cheat in exams, flirt with girls. I am only myself, not talkative, silent, withdrawn, stubborn, unguarded to the world.

In the way of growing up, I didn't look like the boy around me after all.

I wrote about a boy named Orange, who lives by the sea in the south like me, but after many years, the world has changed, but he is still him. But now I can no longer find him, like there is no answer to the question I am trying to seek, and time deprives too many people of the right to speak.

I still like to be alone. I don't have many friends. Sometimes I am asked by readers who like my works to appear online, chat or send private messages. I am a person who is not very good at rejecting others, all the time.

The most frequent question they asked me was: how to write? I said, write with your life, your dreams, listen to your inner voice and write without distractions.

Keep the sea and fish in your heart.

For a long time, I have continued my creation in this way, without any pressure or pressure, without any evaluation and influence, and rarely to cater to the specific style of magazines or the interests of the book market.

I just want to write what I want to write, not become a vassal of some kind of regulation. I just want to be who I am, not who I want to be. They take the noisy road, I would like to take my own peaceful waterway.

In my opinion, a qualified text creator should be like this, free and easy and natural, as casual as the wind, instead of becoming a codeword worker sitting in front of a computer screen.

As Wang Meng said, writers are neither judges nor curses of the world. They should be full of interest, love and goodwill in the world. To the world, the writer is first of all a receptive person, an expresser and a lover of the world.

Words are the roses we hold in our hands and the most affectionate kiss we give to the world.

Many writers will use words to highlight the pain that the world has given them, and I like to use pure, close to natural love to describe the warm and cold world. Those teenagers in memory, or naive, or stubborn paranoid, or passionate, or reticent.

And you always stand in the shadow of that teenager yesterday.

I hate men or women who wear masks and the twisted eyes they cast when they watch. Every time I get along with them, the voice of disdain grows louder and louder, and a kind of vigilance makes me want to keep away from their world. Also

Gradually dislike some things, as if at a glance can distinguish between right and wrong, evil, good and evil. I believe that my intuition is unalterable. But I still play a vulnerable role in this guessing game.

Color. Like countless people have told me, you are still a child.

Children are the most vulnerable in the world.

Think of the bustling coastline of one summer, the proud declaration of that teenager in my memory

The bright song "Youth" often rings in my ear, and its melody is like a pair of soft hands, adjusting the hour hand and minute hand back through the light from the branches of the summer tree, stopping every grain of dust flying in the air, so that I can meet who I am now and who I used to be.

So I wrote about the blue sea, the glowing river, the clear sky, the noisy cicadas, the luxuriant trees and the gorgeous flowers.

So I wrote about the south, the prosperous Rain Water, the lush campus, the mottled walls, the students who sleep in class, the teenagers who climb the wall at night, or the children who like to wander around.

So I wrote about walnuts, oranges, gulls, Xiaoyou, buttons and glass balls, about children forgotten by busy parents all day, and about myself looking down at my shoes in the face of growing up.

So, I write about the simple world, clear time.

Everything must be soaked in innocence, cleanliness, freshness, warmth, without harm.

I have told myself more than once that I am no longer young at the age of 20, but I still want to do something to keep my youth alive in this not-so-young day, and that is to write these words. I earnestly hope that my time can be saved

In these words, they are as good as a piece of blue-and-white porcelain, and the unfading tone is full of young, simple and silly colors. When I am so old that I have only memories, I will see the clear teenager sleeping among the flowers in the early morning or dusk of one day.

At that time, youth ran to the classroom before seven o'clock for self-study, signed the report card in adult style, stayed up late to play games and watched movies, but forgot the homework in the schoolbag.

At that time, youth dozed off on a rickety bus, was arranged by the teacher to sit next to a good student and peeked at the books dropped in panic when the good-looking side face was found.

At that time, youth was the hum of the electric fan in summer, and you imagined the sweet smell of the watermelon when it was cut. It was a few pimples that had not subsided on the face after eating green lotus yellow tablets for a week. They were sweet potato cakes made by father and pumpkin soup made by mother.

At that time, youth was walking through the garden in the early morning when I found several new flowers blooming inside. When a girl in secret love came out of the shed with a bicycle, you blushed and imitated the lines in the movie and said, "my name is Zhang Shihao." Scorpio O, swimming team guitar club, I'm not bad!

The teenager, the innocent teenager, the one who was infatuated with St. Exupery, the one who wanted to be Peter Pan and Harry Potter, the one who liked May Sky, soda Green, and Chen Yizhen, the teenager who always burst into tears and laughter, wanted to say thank you to everyone who cared about him and loved him.

In memory, time can leave traces and smells.

Dear youth, you should know that youth is a beautiful garden, it is not barren, it is not so cruel, but our hearts are often lost in this world, can not find that glowing exit.

Dear youth, the story continues, there is no shape in the future, you must all live happily and love bravely.

Youth is the most beautiful scenery in life.

Do and cherish, know each other and never forget