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Chapter 130 About Despair

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    ?

    In fact, it was an article in Volume 1. After being screened, I deleted it.  I originally wanted to write an article about despair, but I couldn¡¯t write it well. I turned to it lying in the draft box and thought, let¡¯s just do it.

    ¡¾Dividing line¡¿

    Last night, when it was almost midnight, there was another cry from the next door.

    ?Looking at the words, it is quite scary, at least it will give a chill to the back.

    In fact, on the first day I moved here, I heard her cry.  After that, I heard it intermittently, about a dozen times.

    I don't know what it was like in the beginning. After all, the walls are still soundproof. There should be silent tears and sobs.  By the time I could hear it, I was already crying louder, but I still held back and was restrained.  Later, it turned into wailing and heart-piercing.  Usually in the end, it will turn into a hissing, the kind that uses all its strength, until it probably exhausts all its strength

    Sometimes it's daytime, sometimes it's nighttime.

    During the day, her doors and windows are open, and the sound can be heard far away.  Neighbors in the front, back, left, and right will come out and point fingers.

    Although I am a neighbor next to her house, I am not familiar with her, nor have I spoken a few words.

    Before moving here, I went to the house to fetch things and met her for the first time in the yard.  She just called the security guard to complain to me, saying that the garbage in her yard was thrown by me.  Her long hair was hanging, her complexion was not very good, and her eyes did not meet people, she just kept saying that this was very annoying and made her feel uncomfortable.

    I apologized, explained that I hadn't moved here yet, and the garbage should have been blown over (in fact, my side was empty) Then I went into her yard and picked up all the paper and sawdust on the ground.  Although I don't know where those come from either.

    The second time, her package was in my yard for some reason, so I knocked on the door and gave it to her.  She looked very happy that day, smiling, and politely said thank you.

    I haven't spoken since then, but I can see her in the yard from time to time, tending flowers and plants by herself.

    When the sun is particularly good, she always wears floral skirts that reach to her ankles, sitting on the porch, looking at the flowers and plants in the yard.  The trees in her yard grow very tall, and the branches and leaves cover the yard densely, making it difficult to see the inside clearly from the outside.

    But I understand this feeling. Once when I was a child, I liked to surround myself in the center of a circle of chairs and read a book, which felt very safe.

    She is usually so quiet, and her figure is so beautiful when she dissolves in the lush flowers and trees, so that every time I hear her cry, I need to work hard to shake her from my impression.

    What kind of thing should it be? It will make a person lose control over and over again and cry hysterically.

    Sometimes I am a little envious, she has the courage to cry out.

    When other neighbors mentioned her, most of them pointed to their heads, and then their eyes were full of sighs, pity, and helplessness.

    Yes, the vast majority of adults should not shed tears until they reach a certain level.  Not to mention being so careless and crying like a child.  Don't care about the eyes of others, don't close the door, don't cover the window, completely expose your own pain.

    We should have learned how to cover up and disguise very early, even if we are crying like a child in our hearts, we will still face the outside world with a smile.

    This is called normal, mature, sensible, caring, private, powerful

    It's just that we often pretend to be invisible, the child in our hearts really deserves to be treated well.

    ¡¾Dividing line¡¿

    Because it was written a long time ago, she moved away long ago.  The overcrowded and lush trees in the yard have been carefully trimmed to let in more sunlight.

    The original mottled and old railings were repainted into a snow-white color.  Through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, you can see the evacuated house, repainted, bright and clean.

    But just an empty room.

    I will no longer hear crying, nor will I see the silhouette in a floral dress sitting on the porch half shaded by the trees.

    Before walking away, I saw the new tenant walking into the yard, and he greeted me across the fence with a smile.

    I smiled and said welcome, but I was obviously regretful.  After all, no, bid farewell to her who has left.  (Remember the site URL: www.hlnovel.com
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