Some people say that she is very beautiful and has a soft voice. When I saw her, I thought she was pretty and pretty at first glance, but after a long time, it was nothing more than that. Kong has a good face, but lacks agility.
I will forget a lot of things.
Life reincarnates in silence.
Definitions of beauty and ugliness take on different meanings as we age.
She thinks he likes her a little bit. Maybe it's just an illusion. He walked over from the opposite side, looked into her eyes, and she dodged in a panic. Why dodge, she does not know. Maybe I should muster up the courage to walk up to him. Ask him, do you like me?
She didn't ask.
He didn't say anything either.
She is not pretty, nor is she particular about her clothes. It's either blue and white shirts or yellow and red shirts all day long. A pair of ripped jeans. Hair is simply combed into a ponytail. The walking posture is wilder than that of a man. In addition to the appearance is a characteristic of a woman, the demeanor is like a man.
Perhaps he also struggled, why should he like this type of woman. She is not beautiful, and there is nothing to show off when she is taken out.
? If some things always go against our wishes, God must have other arrangements.
Fate came suddenly and just right. After living for so many years, maybe just waiting for that one person. She doesn't need good looks, just a kind heart.
In the least romantic moments. The moment of fascination freezes the long time, as if even the air is still. From now on, it's all about her. Whether it is good or bad, it has become the best memory.
At the age of 30, my face is still full of pimples. Maybe God made me always cherish the memory of my lost youth. Maybe my face would look a little prettier if I didn't have these embarrassing pimples. I also thought about taking good care of my body, going to bed early and getting up early every day, applying a mask in the morning and evening, and applying various "liquids" on my face, but I gave up on this idea.
Everyone will get old one day.
I am very tired. Only had a little lunch. feel hungry. Hunger is a torture. It's making me weaker and weaker. The pretended strength disappeared. In the end, she will become a weak girl, unable to lift even a small rock. Ordered a large case of bread online. In the rainy weather, I ate bread for a week, and even my mouth tasted like purple cassava. The exhaled breath is even more intriguing.
I know many things.
But I don't know my own heart. Want to become the sand in the world of mortals and fall in the most eye-catching position of the heart.
I haven't eaten hot dry noodles for a long time. Missing is a disease.
Leaning against the door frame.
Miss the past. Miss the most innocent moments. (Remember the site URL: www.hlnovel.com