Spring Prose in a Vase

Write down the time of this season and send it to the 15-year-old me. Now it seems that youth is like the spring of that year, transformed into an unforgettable pain, crushed into sand, decorated with flowers...

Spring in a vase

I always I was thinking, if time can be collected, can I use this vase on my desk that is covered with time and dust to contain the youth of this entire spring? Just this season of youth is enough...

——Written in the Wind

All the flowers blooming are a lazy waiting, just like in the noisy corner of the city The dust, the prosperity of wandering for a lifetime.

Is the flight of time really so unexpected? It is like a horse whipping up without thinking, whizzing by on the track of time, leaving deep scars on the annual rings. On a careless morning, the unusual glare of the sun woke me up from the edge of memory, and then I recalled, thought, sighed, regretted...

Spring came quietly and walked onto the red carpet of 2011 .

Listen, is that the sound of flowers blooming?

Has winter passed quietly? But how did she get there?

Is spring coming? But why do I feel so unreal?

…

For me, this winter indeed has a kind of uncontrollable decadence and helplessness. It seems that from the moment I stepped into the house, the disease lingered by my side relentlessly. It wasn't until the breath of the Spring Festival quietly dissipated that I came out of the shadow of a severe cold. I once thought pessimistically, would I have to fight the hardest battle against the disease throughout the winter? However, it turns out that my despair was not groundless. It’s too late to appreciate the winter snow scene, the flowers have sprouted; it’s too late to look forward to the warmth of spring, the leaves have grown; it’s too late to feel the comfort of the snowflakes melting on the cheeks, the sun is already hot. Is spring too hasty, or are we too hasty?

I suddenly remembered the spring when I was 15 years old - that should be regarded as the opening ceremony of my youth. So many years later, when I trace the thread of time and recall the fragmentation of youth, I always feel... It is to remember her as the starting point of youth. At that time, I had just come out of the shadow of a severe cold, but I never thought that in the long spring that followed, the whole of China would be fighting a desperate battle with the SARS disease. In that spring when catkins were flying, the sunshine was as warm as in previous years, and the spring breeze was as warm as in previous years. However, under the dappled sunlight, everyone's face was filled with tension and fear. At that time, I told myself - "Only through experience can you grow up. People gain the power of life from bit by bit of realization." Many years later, whenever I think of this motto of youth, I always feel like It is a sigh of admiration for the greatness of youth...

I still remember the warmth of spring and the flowers blooming that year, but I am no longer young.

At that time, I simply thought that the spring of that year was an absolute accident. The spring was destined to be beautiful. The wild geese returned south, the flowers bloomed everywhere, and the vast fields began to bloom. After the new year's sowing, all kinds of people have also begun to work hard in the new year, and there is a prosperous scene... However, a year later in the spring, on an evening full of gorgeous sunset, my most beloved grandfather came with A trace of memory of the sunset left this world forever. So that every year after that, I was filled with an unprecedented fear of spring.

My mother often said that good health is the greatest happiness for a family. Perhaps only when I truly get over my illness can I truly appreciate the weight of my mother’s words. But I once thought, if health is happiness, then is youth the capital we use to squander happiness? How many times have passed by, all with sadness and joy that have to be mentioned. In those days when the sky was full of snow and the wind was whistling, all the sadness and anguish that could be forgotten and ignored were abandoned in the blurred eyes. We squander our youth in the most gorgeous way, but in an absolutely uproarious way, youth becomes our reason and excuse to escape reality in those sad and bright days...

It’s just that those The passing years are scattered all over the world.

When youth flows against the river, what time leaves us is an unspeakable regret...

I have tried hard to think about what kind of youth is truly beautiful? Is it the luxury and wealth under the feasting and feasting, or the simplicity and inaction among all living beings? Fate tells me that it is neither.

In the days when I first came to Chenggong campus, I tried to subvert all theories about youth. Everything here is new and unfamiliar. It seems that time has turned back and I have returned to the time when I first entered school. There are not yet fully built teaching buildings, a library that has not yet taken shape, a stadium with a brand new lawn, mountains that stretch all around and cannot be seen through, and loess spreading in the distance... all of this converges into a campus that is isolated from the world. It is in such an almost deserted environment that I continue to write the third spring and autumn of my college youth. However, during these six months, I have lived a very fulfilling and practical life. Although I will always recall the two wonderful years of living in Yangpu, where I was bohemian and carefree, I will always be proud to tell my close friends that in these six months, I have not had a relationship or visited someone. I've been to Internet cafes and KTVs, and I haven't even touched the games on my computer. The pressure of study and life caused me to close myself off almost crazily, seemingly turning a deaf ear to everything outside. However, it was this isolation that alienated me from many of my so-called friends. When I suddenly woke up, it turned out that the outside world had really changed. Fortunately, they have all found their own happiness. Time has traces, if life is just like the first time we met - to me, how wonderful it would be...

I always think, if youth is a rushing river, my memory Are you living on this side of the river? But my growth rings are forever buried on the other side of the river. Maybe I don’t know how to cherish it, but isn’t working hard now the best way to cherish youth? Now it seems that I am worthy of this stubborn strength - if I can be considered strong.

I am longing for a free life, even if I am riding with sadness...

Let the spring breeze blow away the ambiguities that I once had no time to care about.

Sunshine, great.

This winter is indeed full of endless sadness. Youth is fleeting and never comes back. Those symbols and memories that were once unique to our generation cannot withstand the corrosion of time and disappear from the world day by day.

If the sadness many years ago was somewhat hypocritical, "young people don't know the feeling of sadness, so they forcefully talk about it in order to compose new words", the sadness of the weak years is more of a heartfelt farewell. If I miss you, then the sadness I feel now is standing at the end of youth, with tears in my eyes, the bitterness and nostalgia of being reluctant to leave...

Those vows that I once thought would never change are still in my mind after all. Being completely forgotten; those loves and hates that I once tried desperately to forget are still recalled again and again in the cruelty of memory. Feng Hua pointed at the quicksand and aged for a while. The years have turned the oaths into lies, scattered in the world of mortals, and passed away with a smile...

Perhaps youth is like this, just to hear the sound of flowers blooming once, to see the silence of flowers falling, and then it ends, the end...< /p>

Many years later, I am no longer young, but I still have a little rebelliousness and frivolity. I like to live a free life. I wear loose pants, short hair, and a blue hat. I ride a bicycle. Riding a bicycle, wandering freely in every corner of the city. Looking at those teenagers, recalling our youth at that time. Accompanied by shadows like this, they continue to linger in the memories of the past, and those fleeting smiles in my mind are like nightmares at midnight, constantly intertwining with the chaotic time and space in the memory, awakening how much happiness and joy Sad face. Maybe one day we will no longer be sad, just like we understand that butterflies can never fly across the sea...

However, I am still willing to retain a piece of innocence for this world, waiting for the natural sound of youth.

Because we were born in the 1980s.

Fortunately, we were born in the 1980s...