Perhaps we've slowly forgotten the pain of losing certain things and people. A fleeting reunion, a chance encounter, a familiar greeting, longing—all evoke memories of boundless joy. There are also memories from years ago, recollections from years later, and heartfelt reminiscences.
Perhaps we were all young then, our eyes, hearts, and minds devoid of selfishness or ambition. Pure feelings, pure care—that's why they're missed for so long. As the saying goes: we always have to walk some unfamiliar roads, see some unfamiliar scenery, hear some unfamiliar songs, and then, in some unexpected moment, we find that those things we thought we'd never forget have been forgotten. Now, when I think back to the past, what's in my heart? I can't quite remember or explain it. Today,
a friend wrote in her diary: Time has changed our appearance, but it has left each other's shadows in our hearts. In the passing years, for whom do I remember, for whom do I shed tears, for whom do I revel, for whom do I feel lonely… all of this is frozen in the sediment of those years. An object, a letter, a greeting, a thought—all can evoke the most beautiful memories of that time, flooding my mind before slowly settling.
I carefully collect everything I can remember: gifts, music, candy, and those special nicknames. Often, our world is too noisy and dusty; I can't hear the growth of those who frantically grew during our prime, nor see the expectations of those who chased their dreams so passionately. Perhaps I've missed a lot, or perhaps I've gained a lot, but time has taken it all away, leaving me only to stumble forward.
Perhaps we are still immature, like the new green branches on a tea tree, lacking time, experience, and the qualifications to become tea leaves capable of producing a rich aroma. All we can do is wait, wait for ourselves to grow and mature day by day, to become invincible, able to overcome any obstacle.
I will still miss the past, and I will still look forward to the day when we grow up, when groups of innocent faces become unfamiliar faces, and even I can't see my own reflection in the mirror. Will the world have changed by then? Will you all be gone from my world, leaving only me, alone in my empty heart, silently shouting?
Youth, years, time. I don't know how much it has taken away, or how much it has bestowed. I only remember that we can never return to our most innocent childhood. That year we ate dark, greasy steamed buns together, herding cattle among the horses; that year we played happily together, sharing the joy of raindrops under an umbrella; that year we skipped classes together, secretly liking a girl; that year we shouted wildly together, striving together for the same dream to come true. Perhaps one day we will brush past each other on a street corner, forgetting each other's faces; perhaps one day we will meet at the middle school gate, but you won't know my name; perhaps one day we will walk home together, but you will be buried in your studies. Perhaps one day we will never see each other again!
Fleeting years, years, time. Please don't take away the memories of my presence; being remembered is a kind of beauty. Life is so vast that I can neither see the beginning nor the end. Perhaps I can only slowly pursue, slowly lose, slowly gain, and then the bittersweet memories will become clear, revealing who staged the most magnificent chapter, wrote the most moving chapter, and sketched the soft moonlight we watched together that year.
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