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panicked

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    I think she is really tired.  So I didn't bother her anymore.

    She stood beside me, silent.  It hurts me not to speak.

    I wanted to say something to brighten her spirits.  But it doesn't seem to work.  Maybe it's because of the hot weather.  Tired all over, don't want to move.

    I wasted my time.  It is a sad pain to time.  If memory can make me happy, then maybe my smile will be more sincere.  No one saw my fragility, like a sudden heavy rain, it germinated in my heart.

    I did not write any text.  The screen of the mobile phone is broken and unsightly, and the computer keyboard has accumulated a lot of dust.  During that idle time, the shadows of branches were printed outside the window.  I hid in that shady place, and the cold wind from the air conditioner went straight into my body. After a while, I felt cold and sad all over my body.

    I want her to be active.  my soul, my mind.  When she broke free from my body, she stood in front of me.  With a haggard face and a weak body, I admit that I have treated her badly. During so many sleepless nights, she is the only one who stays quietly by my side.  Open a pair of chaotic eyes.

    The season when pumpkins are ripe.  DIY Pumpkin Porridge Pumpkin Pie.  Busy from morning to night.  Sweat trickles down the skin.

    My time is filled with work.  It was a tedious job.  Deeply understand the true meaning of what you sweat and what you gain.

    I lost my creativity.  This is sad.  I can't start a story normally, and I can't imagine a beautiful picture when I listen to a sad song.  Can only remember the past.  Look at past memories.

    I am still so young, and my life experience has just begun.  The written words have just had the shocking power to penetrate people's hearts.  It seems so far away from the end.  I became lazy, and I didn't even bother to think.

    For a period of time, I felt that since God gave me a particularly sensitive heart and a very imaginative brain, if I didn't make good use of it and give full play to my strengths, it would seem to be a kind of debt to life.  So I put a lot of time into writing.  I wrote day and night, and my arms were so tired and sore that I couldn't lift them up.  I can't remember how much hair I lost because of writing.  Every time I comb my hair, there will always be a lot of hair falling out.

    Those unbearable years.  What is the difference between what I owe and what others owe me.

    I often dream of a scene.

    At a bustling station, a woman turned around hastily when she heard someone calling her name.  Seeing that person, her expression froze, and she threw the suitcase aside.  Should be someone familiar.  A former lover, or a friend I haven't seen for a long time.

    I think it should be a lover.  It's a pity that this dream only has the upper part and no lower part.  I had imagined the man's face.  Wearing a black coat and a dark striped scarf.  It looks good.  But I quickly dismissed this idea.  Because I suddenly remembered that the woman was wearing a thin shirt, and the man's clothes were too warm.

    Some things don't look back.  What was once lost will never be possessed again.

    She fell asleep.  It was late.  I couldn't bear to wake her up, so I stood there and stared at her quietly.

    She did not write any text.

    I know she is tired.  It takes time to unwind the tiredness of the body.

    She has loved many people.  Those people were already scattered in the vast crowd.  Don't look for the shadow of the past.

    She exists, in my image.

    I live by her soul.  (Remember the site URL: www.hlnovel.com
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