Silent years Another deep autumn, another memorable day. Counting the years that have passed, it feels like a century. Time goes by so fast, it's been fourteen years, the distance of a youth growing up. Years are like an eraser, wiping away our youthful arrogance, slowly grinding down our edges. From youth to maturity is truly a century of trials. Perhaps, time really can change everything! It seems that there is nothing eternal in this world. In the blink of an eye, fourteen years have slowly slipped away. I often look back on those lost teenage years, lamenting how quickly time has passed. Time is like a drop of water on the tip of a needle, instantly falling into the sea, never to return.
On days when the wind is light and the clouds are faint, listening to an old song, sipping a pot of fragrant tea, silently guarding the years, all of this seems so casual, just like the sun rising and setting casually through the seasons of spring, summer, autumn, and winter, and I casually live each day.
One day, as I examine myself in the past years, I suddenly realize that I have forgotten the sorrows that I once couldn't forget, endured the pains that I once couldn't bear, and adapted to the life that I once couldn't get used to. Slowly, the years have smoothed out my sharp edges. The road seems to have suddenly come to an end, with no pain left to extend, no reliance on pain or suffering, and it's as if I've suddenly lost the goal of life.
I don't like the fallen leaves of autumn; their solitary drifting makes me feel cold and merciless. When I wander aimlessly on the streets, looking at the bustling city and the dazzling red lights, what comes to mind is the falling leaves scattered across the sky. Those yellowed leaves seem like a woman's life, women like leaves, cycling through the four seasons, then being buried.
Youth is always short, but in that instant, I seem to hear its knocking and feel the fleeting sense of ease and happiness. Perhaps sorrow always comes with happiness! Just like the snow of winter, when it lands in your hand, there is both sorrow and the warm happiness of tears welling up.
I love the drizzling summer rain. When the rain comes, standing in it with my eyes closed, feeling its gentle touch, a thread of coolness filters through my heart, a stream flows slowly over my heart, rippling throughout the entire summer.
When the autumn wind taps on the window frame, there is a hint of weariness in my heart. A long journey, a cold dream. One's life doesn't have to be spectacular, but I don't want to taste the loneliness of solitude. Perhaps what I need is just a simple life. I believe simplicity is enough to give my soul peace and tranquility. Time is like a prism. Looking back on the past, memories of hardships and difficulties, bit by bit, have already been engraved on the three-life stone. They say the past is not worth revisiting, yet I can't help but recall it, remembering those unshakable days, like the trembling leaves in the autumn wind, fading away in sleepless years, buried! Occasionally, I even burn incense to pay tribute.
The sunlight planted on the roof passes through the gaps in the trees, cutting into the scars of time. I don't understand the sentiment and loneliness of "cherishing youth gone, a few drops of flower-rushing rain", only knowing the joys and sorrows of the world. Being moved too much also leads to numbness, gradually getting used to coldly observing everything in the world. Originally, time is an emotionless carving knife. Those receding figures of youth have long since faded away...
Plain and simple, I just want such a world of my own, keeping all the ugliness of the world outside, forming a seamless wall around my soul. In this ultra-clean space, I wait for what I anticipate, review what I have forgotten, record the time of youth passing, then give my soul some nourishment, then commemorate those irretrievable teenage years, and then perform a more brilliant life afterward...
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